


Thy Brother's Keeper

by EzraTheBlue



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Industrial Revolution, Alternate Universe - No Magic, Brainwashing, Child Soldiers, Different War, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Incognito Royalty, Injury, M/M, MT Prompto Argentum, Mild Sexual Content, Newsies References, Solheim, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 62,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26608987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzraTheBlue/pseuds/EzraTheBlue
Summary: A refugee in industrial Solheim, newspaper hawker Prompto Argentum encounters fresh-off-the-boat Noctis and they become fast friends as he shows him the ropes for how to get along in their new country. However, he soon learns a stunning secret: Noctis is the prince of recently-invaded Lucis, deposed and in hiding with his two retainers as he seeks help for his people and hopes to wait out the war - a war with the very army Prompto defected from. Prompto knows Noctis has reason to hate him, and strives to hide his checkered past as he befriends his enemy. However, the war that sent both of them to Solheim is coming closer. Will their bond overcome the enmity between their countries? Or will old hatred divide them?
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 37
Kudos: 65
Collections: Promptis Big Bang 2020





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is my contribution to the 2020 Promptis Big Bang! I've been excited to share this little project, and after months of work, the time has come!
> 
> Very special thanks to [Scarlett](https://twitter.com/katyscarart) (Twitter linked, warning for NSFW content), my dear friend and the artist of the wonderful art that accompanies this fic! She's amazing, and has been wonderful to work with. 
> 
> I'd also like to thank my editors, Sidus and Cor! I touched it last, so any remaining errors are mine.
> 
> This is one of those odd stories where I can't say I'm entirely certain where it came from. It's a combination of Newsies aesthetic and a fascination with this time period, possibly combined with a documentary I watched around the time the BB was getting started. I crossed that with Episode Ardyn and an unusual approach to the MT soldiers and this came out. The ideas were enough for me to construct a war story and a love story, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. 
> 
> Without further ado!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto, a newspaper hawker and refugee in Solheim, meets an interesting new friend who's just arrived in the city.

**THY BROTHER'S KEEPER**

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185425540@N02/50373243933/in/dateposted-public/)

**1:**

The skies over Solheim always seemed yellow - _had_ been yellow every time Prompto looked skyward. The skyline was jagged with skyscrapers and tall buildings, smokestacks and tattered electricity poles, and always obscured with grey clouds. After a few weeks, however, Prompto stopped noticing. The air down by the docks was clear enough, salty and sweet, and Prompto drew breath deep to holler: 

“Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Gralean forces approaching Lucian capital Insomnia!” 

He wandered down the crooked sidewalks, adjusting his flatcap over his untameable hair with his free hand as he waved a stack of evening edition newspapers in the other. He tried to sneak peeks at the photographs in the paper, faraway places and strange, smiling faces Prompto would never meet, as he crossed under the shadows of reconstruction, roaring canneries and factories, and other strangers trudging through the shadows around him. Solheim had been one of the greatest cities in the world a few generations ago, or so Prompto had heard, but as Lucis and Niflheim had gotten stronger and the world changed, the economy had crashed. Even so, under the steady guidance of Lady Aera and an aggressive trade policy, Solheim was rising again, which only punctuated with its neighbors on either side of the Cygillian ocean escalating their generations-long conflict. Prompto couldn’t help but feel unnerved as Solheim, north of neutral Accordo, West of Lucis, and East of Gralea and the Niflheim Empire, sat away from the conflict as if it were just a shadow play against the dusty golden curtain of sky. Still, it was his place to spread the news, not make his own.

“Extra, extra!” he called again, waving his arm. He paused a moment to adjust his sleeve, ensuring it covered his wrist, but when he turned to stroll further down the dock, a well-dressed woman in a navy gown awaited him.

“A newspaper, if you please,” she spoke serenely, sliding money from her purse without so much as a jingle of coins, long eyelashes fluttering as she paid him. 

Prompto was counting her change as she flipped through the pages, when he noticed three men coming down the dock in dirty day clothes: a skinny man with a combed-back pompadour and rectangular spectacles, a hulking man with the sides of his head shaved looking fit to burst right out of his suspenders, three traveling bags slung over his shoulders, and between them, a young man about Prompto’s age with softer features and lots of thick black hair tucked under a cap. Prompto found himself coming up short at the shortest man’s porcelain features - did he look familiar? Prompto couldn’t be certain, but he realized he was staring when his patron spoke up:

“New arrivals, by the look of them. Why don’t you introduce yourself?” Prompto looked to her, startled, as she smiled from between a curtain of straight black hair that framed her high cheekbones and smooth, shapely lips. “There are more refugees and emigrants coming to Solheim every day, as people escape the war or look to join Solheim’s rise for themselves. I imagine they wouldn’t mind a knowing guide.” The woman gently folded her newspaper and held it out to Prompto. “Sadly, my Madam’s ship has been delayed yet again, so I’ve none to greet, but that should not stop you.”

Prompto sputtered as he put the paper back in his hand and departed without waiting for her refund, only to see the three men looking at him. He gawked a moment longer, then hurried over to them. 

“Um! Hi! Uh, new in town?” 

_Smooth_ , Prompto told himself, as the giant man snorted and the bespectacled man adjusted his glasses. The younger man grinned, crooked and amused, and extended a hand. 

“We are, aye; just in from Tenebrae.”

“Well, welcome to Solheim!” Prompto happily shook his hand and beamed. “I’m Prompto! Prompto Argentum! It’s nice to meet you!”

“Noctis,” he replied, giving Prompto’s hand a squeeze. “I gotta say, it's nice that people here are so friendly they just walk up to each other on the street. You’re the first person to just, y’know, talk to me.” The bespectacled man cleared his throat, and Noctis quickly added, “Since we arrived.” 

“Noct,” the bigger man groused, and Noctis glanced back, thumbing towards the hulking, muscular man first.

“These are my brothers, Gladiolus - or Gladio-”

“Pleasure,” Gladio muttered gruffly, but Prompto could feel his hawklike amber eyes studying him like he was trying to decide if he could swallow him whole.

“And this-” Noctis gestured to the thin man in glasses, “this is Ignis.”

“Much obliged.” Ignis gave a diplomatic smile, the kind Prompto was used to seeing only on doctors and politicians. “We do appreciate the warm greeting.”

“Oh, yeah! We’re all neighbors here, and that practically makes us all family!” Prompto laughed, as Gladio snorted.

“Let’s hope we don’t all have to get that close.” He lightly hit Noctis’ shoulder. “C’mon, Noct-”

“Wait, wait.” Noctis shook his head. “Look, we just got here, we’re not exactly sure where we’re going. This guy-” 

Prompto was _on it._ “Ooh, I can tell you where I’m living!” He took the paper the pretty woman in blue had returned to him - it had already been paid for, no harm in using it for something else - took a pencil from his front pocket, and scribbled his address over the lead article. “I don’t know what you have for housing, but if it’s not a lot, this building has empty rooms for rent! It’ll be fine until you have enough to do better.” He handed the broadsheet over with a grin and a flourish. “My sister and brothers and I live here. We’re all trying to do better too, but it’s not easy for anyone, and it’s only been a month since we got here, you know? We’re from Tenebrae too.” He chuckled to himself, as Ignis, Noctis, and Gladio all looked at the address. “It’s pretty near a streetcar stop, so you can get to work deeper in the city pretty easily, and there’s a market nearby, and, uh, you know, I live there and it’s just fine for me.”

“A ringing endorsement,” Noctis replied with a little grin. 

“Clear as a bell; it rings true enough,” Ignis added, smirking, and Prompto couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. “And do tell," Ignis went on after a beat, "how would we get there?”

Prompto turned and pointed at the street signs. “Easy peasy!”

He rattled off directions - he’d walked the streets hawking papers long enough to get to know the lay of the land easily, could probably walk from the docks to the train station with his eyes shut without walking through a single construction zone. “If you see the bank,” he concluded, “you’ve gone too far. Just look for the bar with a broken letter A in the signage out front - my big sis had to scold a patron last week - and look right across the street, you can’t miss it.” 

“Much appreciated.” Noctis tipped his cap, his indigo eyes twinkling. Prompto grinned, unable to keep from showing off his teeth no matter how many times his sister told him he looked goofy when he did that. “We’ll be seeing you, hopefully.” With that, he motioned to his companions and strolled off, still holding Prompto’s newspaper in his hand. 

Prompto really did hope he'd see Noctis again. He was a nice guy. He actually talked to Prompto like he was just another person. He liked Solheim well enough, but he hadn't really made friends with anyone yet. The other newsboys were either sneering Lucians who didn't dare trust him, or Graleans, who were reluctant to trust anyone they didn't know. Too many people in the city were suspicious of people from Gralea, the seat of the Niflheim Empire. The Empire had already conquered most of the Western continent and were now making war with Lucis and threatening the surrounding territories and their allies. Prompto was still called a Niff in the street, and most other people who looked like him got the same treatment. 

Solheim was nicer than Gralea, by Prompto's estimate, anyway. Prompto knew the city, the tall skyscrapers of gleaming steel and glass, the brick brownstones, the stone facades of the factories by the dock. The stone-paved streets were smooth under his feet, his worn out boots scuffing the crooked, cracking sidewalk near the docks with every step, and even the yellow skies couldn’t get him down. He liked the clamor of people talking nearby, men, women, and families chattering happily with each other, even if they didn’t talk to him. When Lady Aera, the city’s organizer, made her announcements over the city’s broadcasting system, her voice was comforting and steady.

_“Good evening, residents of Solheim. This is your Conservateur, Aera. I wish to thank you all for your hard work rebuilding our city. I have heard troubling news about our neighbors in Lucis, and I wish to reassure you all that Solheim is not involved in the conflict…”_

Solheim was fine. It was neutral. It was open for anyone to come in. That was why Prompto could call it home, and that was enough for now.

Prompto was content to stroll down the street, selling every last newspaper in his satchel as he walked from the docks back to the immigrant’s district. He could do that here. He could spend what money he'd made buying bread and cheese at the market, even if the market owner scowled at him the entire time they were slicing it, and when he returned to his building, it wasn’t just to a building. It was to _this_ building, six stories of crumbling brick crammed between other similar cramped skyscrapers, with lots of cracked windows with concrete sills crammed as close as all of its tiny rooms and one rickety fire escape ladder, and to his big sister, Aranea, coming out the front door. He hadn't had such luxuries in Gralea: bread, cheese, a building he could call home, or aggressive but affectionate hair-ruffling.

"Hey, kiddo." Aranea, with her silvery hair bound in a plait, dressed in a thick black skirt, a wool vest, and linen top all covered with an apron, mussed Prompto's hair up into bedhead as she passed him in the doorway to their tenement building. "Was just starting to worry about you! Loqi isn't home yet, and I hate to leave Verse and Aurel by themselves, but-"

"You gotta work, I know. Don't worry, I got my baby brothers." Prompto grinned easily. "Is there dinner for me?"

"On the stove. It’s just some everything-in-the-icebox soup, but it'll do." She gave his hair one last aggressive fluff, then patted him on the back. “Go on and keep an eye on your brothers, I’ll be back late again.”

“Thanks, ‘Nea.” He patted her forearm, still hesitant to hug her after all they’d been through just to get to Solheim, but just as he turned around, she caught him by the ear.

“One more thing - we got neighbors moving in.” She released his ear, a frown creasing her forehead. “They were being kinda loud, made Aurel a little shaky.” She wagged a finger, as Prompto rubbed his aching ear. “Just watch ‘em, okay?”

“Sure thing!” 

Neighbors! Prompto forgot his worries and ran to the stairwell. He sprinted up all six flights, only to see the door ahead of theirs in the hallway hung open, and Gladio carrying a few cheap mattresses in from the other stairs. Ignis was standing in the doorway, hanging their clothing in the closet in the front room, Noctis sitting on the kitchen counter and flipping through the newspaper Prompto had given him. He looked up as Prompto came close, and grinned broadly.

“You’re here, huh?” He motioned past Gladio, as he hustled the rolled mattresses into the back room, “Are you in this hallway?”

“Right next door!” He scooted past the open door, as Noctis hopped off the counter and peered past the opening to the next door, hardly two meters away. “My brothers and sister and I live here!”

Gladio grunted as he came back out, “All of you, crammed into one of these tiny…” His grumble turned into a growl under his breath as he stalked back towards the stairwell, and Prompto suppressed a little shiver.

“It’s enough for us, for now.”

“It’s going to have to be enough for us, too,” Noctis murmured, but put a smile back on. “But, hey, I guess we’re neighbors now?”

“Neighbors?” Prompto chuckled. “We’re so close, we’re practically family.”

Noctis crossed his arms, trying too hard to look cool and proud. “Well, then, happy to be with you, brother.”

Prompto beamed, but Ignis called Noctis’ name and pulled him back in, and Prompto turned to his own locked door and his younger brothers.

Maybe the skies would change, Prompto thought. If nothing else, it was nice to think he had a new friend.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis begins to adapt to his new normal in a new city very far from home, as Prompto learns how far the war he fled from has spread.

**2:**

The tenement was the most miserable living situation Noctis could imagine. The moment Ignis closed the door on the hallway, he felt shut in, practically entombed. It was three rooms, a front room for sitting and eating, a single bedroom, and a kitchen that two people wouldn’t be able to turn around in. The walls were yellow and cracked, the window rattled in its frame. 

The window alone made Noctis feel uneasy. It was big enough to climb out of, but there were no railings or anything, just a foot-long concrete sill. Ignis kept staring at it sideways, and Noctis wondered if Ignis was still thinking about him as a curious toddler who just might crawl out of it. Noctis just hated how big it was. He felt exposed in the light that flooded the room through that dusty, rickety window.

Worse, it was cramped. Gladio had barely managed to lay out the three bedrolls he’d bought with the little bit of money they’d been given in the bedroom. There wasn’t enough room for an actual table that would seat all three of them and chairs in the front room - not that they could afford more than the two-foot-square card table Ignis had found. This room didn’t even have a space for a bathroom - there was a communal bathroom two floors down. This was nothing. This was pathetic.

“How the hell is that other man living with four other people in a room like this?” He crossed his arms and propped his back to the wall, just as Gladio skulked back in, carrying three chairs under his arms. “Have you noticed that this place is awful?”

“What did you expect, a castle?” He sneered. “Quit bitching, Princess, at least you have a roof over your head.”

Noctis stifled a groan and slid his back down the wall. At least complaining about the tenement gave him something else to think about. Talking to Prompto gave him something else to think about. Ignis, hustling back from the kitchen, was doing enough thinking about everything else.

Ignis had already begun cooking up some canned beans - _gross_ \- for their first meal in Solheim, but he left the pot on the burner to peer out the window. 

“I suppose it’ll have to do. The walls are paper thin, but hopefully our neighbors spend as much time outside of their domiciles as they can.” He turned back towards Noctis. “I advise you to be careful with that young man next door. He seems innocuous enough, but we can’t let on who we are until we know we’ll be safe in this country, or until we are summoned home.”

Gladio finished arranging the chairs, then dropped himself into one with an uncomfortable grunt. “If we ever do get to go home.”

“Shut up,” Noctis grunted in disgust, and slid down the wall the rest of the way to sit on the dusty, creaky floor. His head fell forward, hat tumbling onto his lap. “This sucks for everyone involved, you don’t need to remind me.”

The memories of home were too fresh. He still closed his eyes and remembered being hurriedly woken in the night, forced to pack and flee the Citadel through the servants’ corridors and escape the capital city of Insomnia through a secret tunnel. He’d turned back and regretted it, seeing every window of the castle shattered as the Niffs destroyed his home, ravaged his people, and made him a refugee.

Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum had fled Insomnia, abandoned Lucis, to save his own life, and he couldn’t forget the horror of that night. He didn’t need to be reminded of his failure. Now was the time to begin making up for it. 

“Noct,” Ignis started, timbre between mollification and chide, but Noctis shook his head.

“It’s fine. While you guys were getting set up, I sent a telegram to the number the Marshal gave me.” He glanced up from under the fall of his travel-mussed hair to the other two. “I let him know we were safe and gave him a way to contact us. I’ll check for word from him every day.”

“Thank you, Noct.” Ignis gave a sharp nod, then dusted his hands. Noctis grimaced as he saw Ignis wring his hands again and again, as Gladio’s shoulders subtly sank where he sat. “I do hope you gave the telegram operator a pseudonym.”

“Noct Corona. Guess that makes you Gladiolus Corona and Ignis Corona. We’re brothers now, right?” He sneered a bit, as Gladio snorted.

“Probably enough refugees around that most won’t ask questions.” Gladio rocked back in the chair, balancing his bulk carefully and staring through the ceiling. “But if anyone does ask questions-” He let the legs of the chair drop heavily, “I’ll deal with it.”

“Gladio, please.” Ignis sighed and rubbed his forehead. “We’ll worry about that eventuality should it arise, but for now, let’s assume that our identities are relatively unknown. Let us review the facts.” He crossed to the table, rapping his knuckles against the cheap wood as he made each point: “Our resources are limited. We spent what little money we had renting this room and buying furnishings therefore. We don’t know how long we shall remain, and we will need additional funds, both to maintain our rent, to feed ourselves, and to continue to contact home as needed. In short, it would be advisable for all of us to seek employment.” His eyebrows knit as he glanced back at Noctis. “I fear that includes you, your Highness.”

“Don’t call me that,” Noctis mumbled, folding his arms around his face. “I’m not Prince Noctis here.”

He’d read the headlines in the newspaper. The reports were from a week ago. He knew just what had happened when the Gralean forces had reached Insomnia. He’d been there. 

“Noct - I’m sorry, but -”

“It’s fine. Desperate times call for desperate measures.” Noctis stood slowly, dusting the baggy chinos he’d grabbed in their hurried flight from the city. He still remembered Gladio shouting at him to grab “regular clothes,” things that wouldn’t stand out, and only as much as he could stuff into a single bag. Ignis had shoveled an armful of servants’ clothing into his rucksack, too. He’d been too dumbfounded to pack. “I don’t know exactly what I’ll be good for, but I’ll figure something out.”

“Guess an education like what you had won’t do much for you on the ground level,” Gladio groused. “But even that scrawny Niff-looking kid has work. You’ll find something.”

“Gladiolus,” Ignis murmured sharply, drumming his fingernails on the table. “You’ll find that Solheim has a considerable population of Gralean refugees who fled the war, much the same as we had.” 

“Still Niffs,” Gladio muttered. “Maybe if Conservateur Aera had two brain cells to rub together, she’d know who to trust and who not to, and do something about all the Niff creeps-”

Ignis shot Gladio a dagger-sharp glare. “Gladiolus, many Graleans are seeking refuge from the Empire’s tyranny, same as we are.”

“Niffs aside,” Noctis said, a little too loudly, and glanced to the wall of the tenement, where he knew Prompto was just on the other side. 

Was Prompto Gralean? Noctis couldn’t fathom it, he was just too nice. Niffs weren’t nice. He’d only ever known the Niffs who’d come to his father’s court in ostentatious clothes and jewelry, making outrageous demands, and then the ones who poured into Insomnia in metal suits with guns and axes - the MT Soldiers, whatever MT stood for - and tore through his people in the night like rice paper. Noctis bit down on the notion and turned his attention back to Prompto, who had easily been the best part of his last three days. 

“I can do newspapers, like him. I’ll ask. It’ll help me keep an eye on the news, anyway.”

Ignis snapped his fingers. “Capital idea.” He smiled genuinely, for what felt like the first time since they’d fled the city. “And…” his smile faltered, “I suppose I don’t have to tell you, but please do try not to let on that you’re a Prince. I insist on giving you the respect you’re due, but that can only be within these four walls.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Noctis took a few paces towards the center of the room, still looking at the floor. “I’ve always thought of you guys as friends first, and… and not really anything else.” He swallowed hard as he turned it over in his mind, reality peering through like a thief through the curtains.

The Prince of the occupied country of Lucis, having fled the capital with his bodyguard and chamberlain, now in hiding as a refugee in neutral Solheim. His father in hiding, everyone else he knew under Niflheim occupation, the war as good as lost unless some miracle descended from the Heavens to save them. 

Instead, he still had nightmares of the zeppelins of the Empire bursting through the clouds and covering his home in shadow. 

“Let’s just make the best of it.” He turned his face into the kitchen. “Iggy, the beans.”

“Ah!” Ignis hurried back to stir the pot, and Noctis crossed over to the window to take in what was now his home, until home could be home again.

* * *

When Prompto returned from the early morning paper run to grab lunch, Aranea was awake and peeling apples. Loqi was half-dressed, his shoulder-length blond hair tied into a sloppy ponytail, and scowling at the burner coil, but his head jerked up as Prompto came in.

“You. Get over here and help.” He stormed to the door and shoved Prompto towards the kitchen. “I have to get over to the construction site, and the stove’s on the fritz again.”

“Again?” Prompto groaned, ignoring Loqi’s nasty tone and cracking open the oven. “I’ll see what I can do about it when we’re done with it, but it feels like it’s getting hot enough for toast.”

“Eat, Loqi.” Aranea pitched one of the unpeeled apples at him, and Loqi, still sneering, caught it. “If Prompto can’t fix it, I’ll rough up the landlord myself, but lay off’a him.” She shot him a harsh look, and Loqi almost imperceptibly shrank. Aranea put on a saccharine smile and added, too-sweetly, “Be nice to your baby brother.”

“Whatever.” Loqi stormed out, eating as he went, and Prompto sighed and put a piece of the bread from last night on the burner, then peered into the bedroom. 

Verse, who was about Prompto’s age and had his blond hair cropped so closely Prompto could see the scars on his scalp, was quietly flipping through a deck of playing cards, muttering to himself incoherently. Aurel, who Prompto didn’t think was more than six, hadn’t left his blanket since last night, shivering with nothing but his blond mop poking out of the bedroll. “Hey, kids.” Prompto smiled for them. Neither of them seemed to notice him. He sighed and returned to the table. “How was your night, ‘Nea?”

“Mm, fine.” Aranea flicked an apple peel into the wastebasket. “You got a paper for me, sweetie?”

“Oh, yeah!” Prompto went for his paper bag by the door and took one of the extras for Aranea. “Just don’t tell Ms. Aurum.”

“I wouldn’t know your Ms. Aurum from Queen Sylva, sweetie.” Aranea flipped the paper open in front of her, eyes roving the page as she continued to peel the apple, and Prompto went to the stove to flip the bread. It felt like just another one of those peaceful mornings Prompto had gotten used to since arriving in Solheim; things weren’t perfect, but at least they were normal.

Until they weren’t.

“Hey, kiddo, you read the paper while you were running it?” Aranea flicked another apple peel away as she flipped the page. Prompto shook his head.

“No, it’s still dark when they give the bundles out, and I don’t really have time to read it while I’m running around delivering them. I mostly just skim the headlines so I can shout ‘em.” He glanced back. “Something happen?”

“Things happen every day, sweetie.” Aranea sighed. “But something important happened, and word just got here. Lucis’ capital has been occupied by the Gralean forces, and Lucis has been claimed by the Niflheim Empire.”

“Wh-what?!” Prompto whipped around, knocking the bread off of the stove as he ran out of the kitchen and back to the table. Aranea, her jaw set grimly, turned the paper so Prompto could read:

_“INSOMNIA FALLS! ROYAL FAMILY IN HIDING AS NIFLHEIM DECLARES VICTORY OVER LUCIS!”_

“They haven’t found the King, Prince, or their retainers, and the Lucian army is on the run, not exterminated, but it’s all over but the funeral march.” She shook her head slowly, as Prompto just shook. “Tenebrae insists they’re staying neutral, since they’re tiny and due north from Gralea’s capital, and Galahd is starting to mobilize to help their ally, but they’re tiny too. Unless they can get a foothold soon…”

“‘Nea,” Prompto choked out, but she didn’t lift her eyes.

“You need to hear it.” Her mouth wrenched down again. “Gralea is pushing Duscae and Leide to pick a side. Cleigne’s already said they’re sticking with Lucis, and Gralea began pushing their lines there too.” She finally looked at him, gaze stony. “Bottom line is, if Gralea starts pressuring Solheim, we might not be safe here if Solheim sides with the Empire. I don’t trust that wishy-washy Lady Aera to stay neutral if anyone so much as puts a thumb on her hand.”

“Nea, I’m not going back,” Prompto said automatically, wringing his hands and running them through his hair over and over. “I can’t, I can’t.”

“Whoa.” Aranea’s face shook into surprise all at once and she spoke again with practiced, if strained, gentleness. “Hey, no. It’s okay.” She cupped his cheeks in her hands, then gave his ear a gentle tug. “Look, it’s all ‘if’ right now. Solheim’s an island, we don’t know if they’ll come here.” She hushed him, then took both of his hands to keep him from wringing them. “You won’t go back, sweet boy.” She put her forehead against his. “You won’t have to kill anyone. I won’t let anyone make you fight anymore.”

Prompto grounded himself in her touch as Aranea breathed slowly, the same way she would when Aurel wouldn’t stop screaming or when Verse started to pitch his fits and shake, and he forced himself to calm down. It was all ‘if.’ He didn’t know what would happen. He couldn’t.

“Don’t worry about it. Lucis is pretty far away from here. So is everything else.” Aranea patted his cheek, then sat back. “Let’s just take care of ourselves here for now. Go on and help me make breakfast for the little ones, and then get a little break before you gotta go hawk papers on the street.”

“Y-yeah. Thanks, ‘Nea.” Prompto returned to the stove, forcing his hands to stop shaking.

None of them had made it out of Gralea in good condition. Loqi dealt with whatever he’d been through by pouring himself into operating his crane eighteen hours a day. Aurel hadn’t spoken human words in the entire time Prompto had known him, and Verse would only speak when he was raging. For himself, he knew that even thinking of going back made him feel like someone had yanked all of the steel out of his bones, made his legs turn to jelly, made him feel like he would just crack. Still, Aranea had gathered the four of them up, told them they were her baby brothers now, and fled to Solheim in a hijacked boat, and Prompto had hoped that would be the end of that.

And hopefully it would be. He hadn’t heard anything of Gralea looking to Solheim. He felt badly for the Lucians, but maybe that had been a long time coming as it was. 

He would try not to worry about it. He was in Solheim, now. Whenever anyone asked, he would say he was from Tenebrae, though he knew he looked too Niff to really pass. At least nobody would think he was proud of it, and maybe, just maybe he could get along here.

When he left to sell the papers on the street, he heard the door beside him opening and Ignis’ smooth, cultured voice:

“Go on, now. You’ll need to get used to a regular schedule here. I’ll lock the door behind me when I go on my own job hunt.” 

Noctis unceremoniously stumbled into the hallway, his shirt half-tucked and his right suspender sliding down his shoulder. He let out a vicious, floor shaking yawn as the door shut behind him, but as he turned around and caught sight of Prompto, his sulk turned into a sloppy smile. 

“Oh, hey. Mornin’.”

“Good morning!” Prompto put on a big grin for Noctis’ benefit, and remembered that some people had it harder than him. “Getting used to the new schedule?”

“Aye.” Noctis let out another yawn, then motioned with a few turns of his hand to indicate everything and nothing. “Came from… far away. Sun rises… time zones, you know?”

“Yeah, I gotcha. I still get up super early because I never really got used to when dawn comes here.” Prompto giggled, then tiptoed a little closer. He wasn’t sure how okay Noctis was with being touched where he was from. Still, Noctis wasn’t shying back. “Hey, so, did your big brother send you out to look for a job?”

“Mm?” Noctis squinted a little, and Prompto could see realization hit him like a soap bubble had popped. “Oh, that’s right, I meant to ask - are they hiring newspaper boys?”

“Sure!” Prompto grinned. “I can take you to my boss, Ms. Aurum, right now! You’ll have to learn to get up early with me, but I’ll help you! Let’s go!” He took Noctis by the elbow, and Noctis automatically leaned into his touch and followed.

Maybe, just maybe, things weren’t so bad.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto helps Noctis find work, and shows Ignis and Gladio some of the wonders of their new city.

**3:**

Solheim was a growing city, bustling as its sprawling trade organization fed the city’s economy. There was work for literally anyone, and Prompto was happy to guide Noctis and his older brothers towards employment. 

He spiritedly marched Noctis right over to his newspaper office and to Ms. Aurum, the cheerful but hard-working woman who sorted out all the newsboys.

“Ms. Aurum, are we hiring?” He presented Noctis with a flourish. “If so, have I got just the guy for the job!”

Ms. Aurum turned her attention from the box of newspapers she was rolling and looked Noctis up and down, then put her hands on her hips. Noctis had been yawning, but one good look at Ms. Aurum had him wide awake. 

Prompto could see him gawking at her legs with obvious shock. He kind of got it. All of the women he’d met before Ms. Aurum wore skirts or dresses. Ms. Aurum wore britches, rolled all the way up to her knees, and today she had her vest off and her top two shirt buttons undone, to boot. (She got warm marching around the printing press all day, Prompto figured; that room got hot like a greenhouse but they couldn’t leave the doors open while the presses were running.) Noctis quickly made eye contact, though his eyes were a little wide, but fortunately Ms. Aurum chuckled and pinched Noctis’ cheek.

“He’s got two legs and looks like he’s got most of his wits about him, he’ll do. Go have him put his name down on Paw-Paw’s ledger, I’ll get him a bag together and you can show him the ropes.” She let go of Noctis’ cheek, and mussed his hair as he rubbed his bruised face with an indignant look so obvious Prompto almost laughed. “Oh, and you can call me Cindy, sweetie.” 

Cid, up in the newspaper management’s office, scowled at Prompto, then flicked his gaze over Noctis. “Corona, you said?” He groused, then typed a few letters. Then, he smacked the side of his typewriter. “Damn this contraption! All full’a bugs!”

Noctis jumped and looked around his feet. Prompto chuckled and nudged Noctis’ arm to get his attention, then shook his head. “Sorry, Mr. Sophiar, we can come back later.”

“Nah, give it a second! This thing’s so used to printin’ propaganda all day, hardly knows how to print the truth...” He gave the machine another whack, and it clicked and dinged. “There we go.” He typed a few things down. “Check the spelling, boy.”

Noctis circled around, then nodded. “It’s fine.”

Prompto noticed Cid’s gaze linger on Noctis’ face a little too long, and frowned to himself, but Cid then waved him off. “That’ll do it, boy. Go on and get, people need the good news.”

As Prompto walked Solheim’s newest paper boy out, Noctis was left in shock in a different way: “I can’t believe it was that easy.” 

“Believe it,” Prompto chuckled. “Lots of people want newspapers, and lots of newsboys want better jobs.” 

As Prompto led Noctis around Solheim, he pointed out all the major streets and how to navigate: “If you can remember the order of Cosmogony books, you’ll be able to find anything on the North side of the city. The streets are mostly alphabetical except for that, but it’s the Old Solheim alphabet, so most folks call it by a virtue starting with that letter.” He happily told Noctis his favorite places to sell the papers he didn’t have to deliver, and his favorite places to grab a snack, when some of the office buildings let out for lunches and breaks so he could sell them papers, and some of the words he might hear around town: “You don’t sound like you’re from the big city, and that’s okay, ‘cause neither do I!”

“Aye? Not as bad as Ignis, though.” Noctis laughed through his nose. “Okay, what sort of words mean different things around here?”

“Okay, well, first off, you keep saying ‘aye?’” Prompto chuckled a little as Noctis raised an eyebrow. “That’s so weird. Just say ‘yeah’ or ‘sure,’ that means the same thing!”

“Huh. If you say so.” Noctis frowned a little, and Prompto nudged his side.

“Yeah, it sounds better! So, let’s say someone says something has a bug. Like when old man Cid says his typewriter’s bugged. That doesn’t mean it has actual insects in it, that means it’s messed up, there’s something wrong with it.”

Noctis whistled. “Interesting.”

“Yeah,” Prompto chuckled, until a passing man in a tweed suit tugged his sleeve and pointed at the papers in his satchel. “Coming right up, sir!" He grinned at the man, then winked at Noctis. "Or, if someone’s giving you the squeeze, they’re trying to get somethin’ out of ya. Your change, sir.” Prompto traded coins with the man, then led Noctis along down the sidewalk. “Catching on?”

Noctis screwed his brow up, but Prompto winked. “It means, ‘do you understand?’”

Noctis actually laughed a little at that. “I think so. People talk more formally where I’m from, I guess.”

As they roamed the city, Prompto giving Noctis the grand tour (as best as he could, on foot), he spotted Noctis’ brother Gladio in a construction office a few streets away from the building Loqi was working on. Prompto was sure Gladio would be hauling steel beams around the tamped-down earth the next morning. As they began to return to the docks, Prompto spotted Ignis, too, through a bank window, standing beside one of the tellers. “I’ll bet your brothers have found work already, too,” Prompto told him, “Like I thought, it’s a cinch to get work in this city!”

“Cinch?” Noctis asked, pretending not to be put out, and Prompto resisted a giggle. 

“I mean, it was easy. You really don’t get out much, huh?”

“Nope.” Noctis popped the ‘p,’ but nudged Prompto with his elbow. “I appreciate you being my guide, though.”

Prompto basked in that little bit of praise. He loved being able to help Noctis out, and it was nice to have someone to talk to in this city. It made him proud to see Noctis so happy because of him.

That little bit of smugness didn’t mean he’d stop. Rather, the contrary. 

They called down all the streets with the morning leftovers, then grabbed a few meat pies from Prompto’s favorite vendor in the main street. Prompto took Noctis right to his favorite little spot near the warehouses where he could watch the ships coming into the harbor. Noctis enjoyed the meat pies, and seemed to be fascinated that you could eat things out of your hands, no fork, no napkin. 

“At home, we always had to use a fork and knife, and be at a table. If I tried to take snacks to other places, I’d get in trouble. This is great!” Noctis seemed to enjoy the big bite he took too much, as Prompto snickered. 

“You must come from a very different part of Tenebrae than me!”

After lunch, they collected the afternoon edition. Prompto noticed Noctis reading it first, brow furrowed. Prompto tapped his shoulder. “Everything alright?”

“Ah, yeah.” Noctis quickly nodded, then kept grabbing up bagged papers. “Just, thought I’d know the headline before I had to go shout it everywhere.”

They spent the afternoon hollering from block to block, reading off the headlines: “Extra, extra! Read all about it!” Prompto waved his papers in the air. “Galadhan Forces Deployed to Lucis!”

“Lucian Royal Family Missing!” Noctis hollered at his side. “Gralean Army Enforcing Martial Law on Lucian Citizenry!” Noctis’ voice wavered just a little, but Prompto was sure he’d get used to shouting pretty quickly.

After a few hours spent selling off all the papers they had, hoarse from crying out, Prompto took Noctis back to the warehouse to turn in their profits, then collected their daily pay. Prompto quickly sorted it out, putting aside the coins he’d need to buy lunch the next day, then bought a newspaper for Aranea (he knew she’d want one), as Noctis stared at his money.

“That’s it? You just, you know, do what they want and they give you money?”

“That’s how jobs work, duh.” Prompto chuckled and lightly punched his shoulder. Noctis shook his head.

“It’s strange that they pay you every day.” He shifted the coins in his palm.

“Well, if you don’t sell all the papers, they pay you less that day.” Prompto patted his take in his pocket. “They don’t have to keep track of it like that.”

“Hm.” Noctis grimaced. “It doesn’t seem like a lot of money. I’m not familiar with Solheim currency, but-”

“No, it’s not a lot, but this is a job anyone can do, so people don’t value it a lot. I mean, it still needs to be done, so they do give you money for it!” Prompto laughed nervously. “But, well, I’m nothing too special, you know?”

Noctis frowned at that, but he didn’t question it any further. Instead, after a few minutes of quiet as they walked along, he asked: "Is this it?"

"Yeah, basically. You wake up, you work, you go home." He shrugged, and Noctis hung his head. 

"Must be more than that."

"If there is, I'm not sure what it is yet." Prompto tucked his hands into his pockets as he thought. "I guess maybe someday, things will be different, or better? I'm just not sure how yet."

As Noctis and Prompto arrived back at the tenement doors, under the familiar, soothing timbre of Aera’s evening announcements, Ignis was just emerging with a canvas bag over his arm. He seemed pleased, if a bit harried, to see Prompto and Noctis together. “I do hope the two of you have been productive. Did you take employment, Noct?”

“Aye - er, yeah.” Noctis tucked his hands in his pockets. “They were practically giving it away.”

“I experienced much the same luck.” Ignis smiled wryly. “Only now I’ve a new conundrum.” He turned his attention to Prompto, his features sobering as he held eye contact with him. “Prompto, was it? I’m afraid I’ve not had a chance to learn the city yet.” Prompto actually felt a little dizzied at his accent: he was _really_ from Tenebrae, Prompto guessed. Noctis and Gladio both said they were, they didn’t sound like it, but Prompto wouldn’t press. “You’ve lived here some time, do you know where one would go to purchase groceries?”

Prompto blinked twice. “Like, food?” He snapped his fingers. “I’m your man! Follow me!” 

Prompto led Ignis to the biggest market near them, stalls and booths lined end to end in a lot between three large buildings, overflowing with packaged meat on ice, crates of fruit and vegetables, and even a few hot carts serving food. “This is where ‘Nea gets all the fresh vegetables and fruit she brings home, and there’s some bakeries for bread and such set up at different booths here.”

Ignis looked utterly stunned: “So this is a proper market!”

Prompto raised an eyebrow and glanced at Noctis. “What did he expect?”

“I don’t think I knew what to expect,” Ignis replied in Noctis’ stead, as Noctis gave a little shrug:

“Back home, food was just delivered.”

Ignis eagerly hurried from booth to booth, looking over the fresh vegetables, as Noctis pulled a face and skulked over to a bakery booth and found a few coins in his pocket. 

“Those rolls, they’re filled with mashed potatoes?” His eyes went wide at the golden pastries under the striped awning, and he handed his money over to the young woman selling the potato rolls, and munched on it as Ignis loaded his shopping basket with carrots, a head of cabbage, and a few potatoes. Prompto followed Ignis, unable to stifle a giggle at Ignis showing such naked joy over shopping.

“You seem really happy!”

“I’ve never done my own shopping before, and the selection was much more limited at home,” Ignis remarked, an undercurrent of glee plain in his cultured tones, delight sparking in his expression as he picked up an eggplant. Noctis made a face like he was gagging.

“I wouldn’t eat that thing at home, either.”

“I get what you mean,” Prompto said, giving Noctis’ arm a nudge as if to say ‘don’t be ungrateful.’ “We didn’t have markets like this at home either.”

“Certainly.” Ignis gave Prompto an already-familiar knowing look. “After all, we’re both from Tenebrae, aren’t we?” 

“Yeah, for sure!” Prompto nodded back, and Ignis gave a nod.

It was almost like an agreement - _we both know we’re not telling the truth, so we’ll believe each other._

However, before Noctis could get curious, Ignis noticed the iced tables in the shadiest part of the market square. Prompto saw him go pale, and he slowly approached the piles of ice and all of the paper-wrapped parcels of meat there. Prompto had remembered feeling the exact same way when he’d first seen the meat for sale. He’d never seen so much in his entire life.

“Fresh meat,” Ignis said slowly as he perused the tables. He took in every inch like he had opened the exposure of a camera shutterbox in his mind and didn’t dare blink for fear he might miss a detail. “And at such low prices!”

“That’s right.” Prompto didn’t miss a beat, didn’t blink, put absolutely no judgment into his voice. He’d never even eaten meat, that he could recall, in his entire life before he’d come to Gralea. Most of his meals had come out of cans, served on hard crackers. He wasn’t even sure what most of it ever was. “Even me and ‘Nea can have meat sometimes at these prices.”

“Given my salary, we could have meat _every night_!” Ignis whirled around, thrilled and shocked, eyes wide and cheeks pale. “How is meat here so affordable?!”

“Great trade deal with Duscae, or so ‘Nea told me.” Prompto shrugged and surveyed the meat tables for himself. “There’s a land bridge near the Vesperpool, and they herd all their cattle and other harvestable animals here, the slaughterhouses by the dock do the work, and the shipping companies here ship out all the deep-frozen meat in icebox ships.”

“Brilliant!” Ignis snapped his fingers, still considering as he studied the markets. “I suppose this means Duscae pays to get their meat handled for them and sold back to them, but I imagine the slaughterhouses here are more controlled than a butcher working out of a ranch.”

“Ever since Lady Aera put sanitation rules in place, yeah.”

“A wise woman.” Ignis selected a parcel, cradling the meat in his palms as if it might vanish if he looked away. “We’ll have to resist spoiling ourselves, but… there’s so much I want to try!”

Noctis laughed softly through his nose, expression a little misty. “If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“Yeah,” Prompto agreed, then cheerfully added, “And hey, if you’d like, I can help taste-test!”

Ignis, sounding proud and delighted, let his gaze land on Prompto, eyes alight. “I suppose, given your kindness in guiding me hence, I’ll have to insist.”

With that, Prompto led Ignis back to the tenement, up all six flights of stairs, to the hallway where their rooms were. Prompto ran over to peek in on Loqi and the other two. Loqi had made rice and lentils and was reading the evening paper with his usual sneer. He shot Prompto a glare. 

“What do you want?”

“Just letting you know I’m having dinner with the neighbors. Just knock if you need me, okay?”

“Whatever.” Loqi lifted his paper up again, and Prompto glanced over to the other brothers. Verse was eating his porridge. Aurel was staring out the window. Nobody was screaming. Loqi seemed to have things under control.

Noctis let Prompto in when he pushed on the door. Ignis was hard at work over the cutting board, and the oldest, biggest brother, Gladio, was seated at the table. Prompto always felt a little nervous around bigger people - he’d had some bad experiences - and Gladio’s gaze was needle-sharp. 

“You coming in?”

“Ignis invited him for dinner.” Noctis gave Prompto a slap on the back, urging him into the room. “He’s helped the both of us out today.” 

“Prompto makes for an excellent guide,” Ignis contributed, just as the knife began to rhythmically rock against the cutting board again, shredding the cabbage easier than paper. “Besides, the more the merrier.”

Gladio’s nostrils flared, and he lifted up a small book that had been under one of his big hands. “If you say so. You’re in for a treat, kid, Ignis can make the kind of food most people only hear rumors about.” He motioned to the chairs. Noctis took a seat in one, and Prompto nervously took the other. He languidly flipped a page, then eyed Prompto over the edge of his book. “Where’d you say you were from?”

Prompto felt himself freeze up. Gladio had the look of a soldier, of an enforcer, and Prompto still instinctively felt stiff whenever faced down by someone like him. Still, he recalled Aranea’s coaching, and carefully recited:

“We came from Tenebrae. We had nothing there, and we heard we could get a fresh start in Solheim.”

“We,” Gladio repeated. Prompto swallowed.

“My big sister, Aranea, my big brother Loqi, and two younger brothers, Verse and Aurel. But Verse and Aurel are really sick, so me, ‘Nea, and Loqi have to work to take care of them. ‘Nea thinks that there might be a doctor somewhere in this city that can help Verse and Aurel, but right now they have to stay inside all the time.”

Gladio studied Prompto for another too-long moment, his piercing gaze stretching the seconds into an eternity. Finally, Noctis swatted Gladio on the arm. “Come on, man, he’s not grilling _you_.”

“Do I look like I’m in the kitchen?” Gladio sneered, then turned to Prompto with a softer expression. “Nah, I get it. That sounds pretty rough. I - we left our baby sister at home, too.”

“Oh,” Prompto said softly, as Gladio’s whole face changed around the thought of someone who was obviously very far away by miles but very close in his head. “I’m sorry. Do you think she might be able to come join you here?”

“I have no idea, and no way of knowing.” He ran a big hand back through his hair. “I don’t know what’s worse, knowing she’s back home, without her big brother to take care of her, or thinking about her living here.”

“Yeah.” Prompto nodded with understanding, but Noctis slapped at Gladio’s arm again.

“Hey, it’s not that bad here.”

“But it could be better, don’t you think?” Gladio raised an eyebrow. “Can you imagine, squeezing another bedroll in that tiny little room?” He threw a hand towards Prompto. “I mean, come on short stuff, don’t you want better than sharing the floor with four other people?”

“Well, yeah, sure!” Prompto chuckled a little. “I just don’t really know how to get it yet.”

“Yeah.” Gladio flipped open his book, and for the first time Prompto noticed the title, that it was a romance novel. “We all want better.”

It was around then that Prompto began to wonder just what Gladio meant, or what that meant for him. He knew they were always hiring paperboys because the other paperboys kept finding better jobs and moving on, but he didn’t know what he could possibly move on to. Much like Noctis learning how to talk and find his way through the city or Ignis discovering the market, Prompto still hadn’t learned what it meant to live in this new world outside of living from day to day. He’d just been surviving, as it stood, but now he was thinking - he was in a whole new world himself. Was there more for him here, too?

Before he got too deep into his own head, Noctis heaved a deep sigh. “Don’t get all philosophical on Prompto. It’s not like any of us have a plan.” He gave Prompto’s arm a nudge, and offered a smile. “You got a plan?”

Prompto’s heart skipped a beat at the curiosity in Noctis’ eyes, but he put on a grin and hoped Noctis didn’t notice. “I dunno! Definitely better than this, I’m just not sure how.”

“Yeah.” Noctis nodded, and just then, Ignis bustled through the door with two plates, one in each hand, and set them on the table.

“Here we are, cabbage rolls made with ground Anak.” Ignis set down plates loaded with two fat, oblong green rolls, blanched cabbage leaves wrapped around sauteed meat and onion and tucked in on the edges to make a parcel, leaking meaty sauce. He put the first plate down in front of Noctis and the other in front of Prompto. “For our guest first, of course.”

“Oh, wow, thanks!” Prompto gasped as he took it in. 

He’d never eaten anything like this, literally ever. This was the kind of food he saw in photographs in the entertainment section of the newspaper, never in real life. He could boil rice or cereal or make soup from a can, but he had no idea how someone would make something like this! 

“This is amazing! What is it, how do you make it?”

Ignis laughed through his nose with amusement as he returned, carrying two more plates. “I cooked down the meat with aromatics, then assembled the rolls and put them under the broiler in the oven to brown them. It’s a wonderful way to get one’s meat and vegetables for the day.”

“Vegetables?” Noctis scowled and began to examine his rolls. “I see the cabbage, where did he hide the rest of them?”

“Don’t be rude,” Gladio prodded the back of Noctis’ neck as he craned his head down and started picking the rolls apart. “We’re lucky to have food this good.”

“It’s no good if he’s hidden eggplants and carrots in it,” Noctis grumbled, and Prompto laughed, then carved his first bite of the roll off just as Ignis sat down. The flavor burst on his tongue, rich and meaty, bitter and savory, mouthwatering! 

“Oh, Six.” Prompto weakly swatted at the table, lost for words, then grabbed Noctis’ arms. “If you’re not going to eat them, give ‘em to me! I’ve never tasted anything this good in my whole life!”

“You’ll eat my vegetables for me?” Noctis’ face lit up with teasing laughter. “No wonder I like you already.”

Prompto laughed, Gladio snorted, Ignis scoffed and wagged a finger at Noctis, and Noctis leaned a little into Prompto’s arm as the four of them shared what would be the first of many meals together.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto contends with his past as Noctis faces the present reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some nightmarish imagery.

**4:**

Nights spent with Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis were a great relief. Prompto couldn’t do as much in his own home for fear of disturbing his other brothers, but they had no such restrictions on the other side of the wall. Aranea had taught him to play Hold ‘Em Poker, and he passed it on to them. 

Then, one night after he’d been paid, Ignis brought home a radio, and he’d put on a crackly station playing famous symphonies, only occasionally interrupted by news missives from Lady Aera, and then radio dramas enacting some famous stage play. They would sit around, laughing along until Loqi pounded his fist on the wall and yelled for them to quiet down. Noctis would shoot Prompto a furtive look and stifle laughter, and the four of them would go on to enjoy the night.

It was a good night. Every night Prompto spent with them was good, until he had to go home.

Aurel whimpered softly in his bedroll as the streetlights gleamed through the tenement window. Prompto, closest to the wall, lay awake staring at the ceiling as he tried to ignore the sounds and noise. He was still too used to sleeping in complete silence, isolated in the tiny bunk rooms no bigger than a water closet per man. The jags of noise from the street, the city’s nightlife, flowed through the paper-thin walls as easily as coffee through a filter, and flashes of light from neighboring buildings and the bars below kept his mind too busy. Still, the sound was better than the silence, or so Prompto thought. The pleasant memories of his evening spent with Noctis and his two brothers faintly lingered, and he tried to focus on the fresh image of Noctis’ smile in his mind, like a painting on a wall: his dark, messy hair mussed from roaming the street with him all day, his limber hand on Prompto’s back, his low voice…

_A cry, a scream. A low moan like a woman dying in childbirth cutting through his consciousness. The filth of the trenches all along the hardened earth, prairie shrubs dug up and tumbling loose like rabbits fleeing a hunter. Lucian soldiers, lined up on the ground between trenches, limp and lifeless, blood pooling under them, dark hair matted and wet where their helmets had tumbled off, laid next to just as many Niflheim soldiers, dead and motionless in their metal masks._

_06250738 yelled once as the Lucian general, or whatever ranking officer this was, peeled his mask off, then went silent as the general put two bullets through his skull with two rapid pops of his pistol. A Lucian soldier, eyes already lifeless, laid his body with the others, and the general, eyes narrow, put his pistol to Prompto’s head._

_“Name.”_

_Prompto, something in him wanted to say, but no, but no._

_“05953234,” his own voice answered, foreign to him when it was garbled through the mask. He bowed his head as the pistol’s barrel pressed steadily on his mask, making his head ache._

_“How many Lucian soldiers have you killed?”_

_He could count the number. He didn’t have to, there was nothing to count. He knew he’d never aimed his weapon at a living thing if he wasn’t being watched._

_“None.” He began to speak a little faster, “I never wanted to, I’m sorry, I don’t want to kill anyone, I don’t want to-”_

_The general kicked him in the chest, sending him tumbling back onto his back. “Then get out of my sight! My king would never stand for me killing a civilian.” The general, with his stormy blue eyes_ ~~_like Noctis_~~ _and fierce, snarling jaw, glared down at Prompto as he weakly looked back to the rest of his unit, dead or soon to be under Lucian capture, and rolled onto his hands and knees._

_“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Don’t kill us. We don’t-”_

_“Get out of my sight!” The Lucian general swung his pistol back, and the next thing he knew was pain blasting through his skull, then blackness-_

The blackness of the ceiling. It was the wee hours, the revelry in the streets had stopped and the night had gone completely black. Prompto’s vision was blurry, but he squinted in the dark, then lifted his hand. In his sleep clothes, his wrist was exposed, and he could see the old brand still there, a blackened burn that stretched across his wrist - _05953234._

He rubbed the heel of his palm to his eyes, smearing away the tears that lingered there. “That’s not you anymore,” he told himself, and tried to roll over. 

Aurel still faintly whimpered in his bedroll, and Aranea was asleep in her spot closest to the door. He took a few deep, steadying breaths, and rolled over.

That wasn’t him anymore. Not since Aranea had found him there, taken his mask off, helped him remember his name, and took him away from the war in Lucis and brought him here. He would never have to be that. 

Still, the brand remained, and Prompto smeared away tears again as those black numbers burned themselves into his gaze again.

“I’m Prompto,” he told himself, and squeezed his eyes shut tight and prayed for sleep to come.

* * *

“Come on, so slow this morning,” Noctis teased Prompto as they left the warehouse, loaded down with newspapers for the early morning delivery run. Prompto lifted his knees a little higher, making himself jog.

“Just gotta work the bugs out of my knees!” He laughed a little, then set off, leading Noctis to all of their home deliveries. 

Noctis appreciated that Prompto seemed to have boundless energy, pep in his step even when he looked like the noise from the bars had kept him up late. The streets were getting warm already, and Noctis was a little too tired to be dragging himself through the hardest part of his day when the sun made the streets muggy and the seaside air thick with humidity. 

They had a routine that had settled in over the days: they’d meet at the door, run down all the stairs to the door with Noctis still yawning and trying to chew on a potato bun or some other pastry he’d bought at the market the night before, then pick up their morning papers from Ms. Aurum. 

“Daily bad news for ya, boys.” Cindy handed each of them a bundle, and Prompto beamed as he stuffed his into his satchel.

“Aw, the news can’t be all bad if I get to see your smiling face in the morning, Ms. Aurum!”

Cindy laughed, then shooed them off to get the papers ready for the next newsboy coming up the way, and Prompto led Noctis off, still grinning. 

Prompto always smiled wide for Ms, Aurum. Noctis couldn’t help but rib him a little as he tried to shake off the blush: “Are you sweet on her?” 

“Ms, Aurum? Gosh, how could I be?” Prompto chuckled, but Noctis could see him flushing a little. “Nah, she’s real pretty, but she could never go for a guy like me! And I’m not sure I could do right by a gal like her.” 

“I dunno,” Noctis turned back in towards the warehouse, where Ms. Aurum was still handing out papers to other boys, “she doesn’t seem picky.”

“She’s married to her work. I like her, but then again, I always admire my betters.” Prompto gave Cindy an appraising look. “Yep. She’s better. Even if I were sweet on her, there wouldn’t be much point.”

Noctis frowned, more to himself, as Prompto picked up the pace. “I don’t think she’s better than you,” he murmured, hoping Prompto heard. 

They spent the morning making deliveries, then sold the afternoon edition on the streets, hollering the headlines all around town. 

Sometimes, they’d stroll past Ignis’ bank, where Prompto made sure to wave to Ignis if they saw him. Ignis would usually come out to buy a paper if he wasn’t helping a customer. He had a kind word for both of them, and Prompto would always offer some sort of cheerful encouragement to make Ignis smile.

On other days, they would walk by Gladio’s construction site. Gladio was usually hauling this or that somewhere, hammering nails or positioning metal beams. He moved around the site - he was often on the ground hauling materials or helping position the different support structures, though sometimes they saw him seated on a beam a few stories up, welding or carrying buckets of bolts. If he saw them, he’d at least wave, and if he was near the fence, he’d slip over and ask how they were doing, tell Noctis to be safe and tell Prompto to keep an eye on him. Prompto would always happily agree.

They spent their days on their feet, hawking their papers until their bags were empty and their change purses were full. Then, they’d turn in their haul, take their pay, run back to the tenement together to share a meal, to play cards at their table until the hour got too late, then they’d return to their respective bedrolls when Ignis declared the hour ‘too late for horseplay.’ They spent the whole day together, except for a scant few minutes: Noctis always insisted on stopping at the post office at least once a day, and usually Prompto would linger outside, waiting for Noctis with his usual cheer and patience.

Prompto didn’t ask a lot of questions. Noctis appreciated it. He didn’t ask Prompto a lot of questions, either, knowing that Prompto’s running mouth would likely spill anything he really needed to know about him sooner or later.

Noctis really liked that about Prompto. He liked many things about Prompto. He liked that Prompto kept trying even though he had troubles of his own, and that Prompto helped him without being asked. Most people in his life up until now had been placed there by others, but Prompto, with his constant sunshine smile, wanted to be in Noctis’ life. 

Prompto, who deserved so much better in his own life, brightened Noctis' new world. 

Noctis, meanwhile, knew he had secrets to keep, and was grateful Prompto gave him the space to keep them. 

The post office was tiny and crowded with mailboxes and cubbies flowing with letters, to be sorted, to be delivered, returned to sender, and dust motes floated in the air, propelled by a lazily swaying ceiling fan. Noctis felt crammed in and small in the dusty little room.The post office worker, a familiar man with a mild voice, deep brown skin and thick braids close to his head, raised an eyebrow at Noctis as he entered. 

“Here again, Mr. Corona?” Noctis gave a crooked smile in response. He’d tormented poor Mr. Armaugh enough, coming in every day, sometimes more than once, pestering him for mail or messages. “You’re in luck. I’ve actually got a telegram for you today.” Mr. Armaugh turned in his chair, searched the cubbies, then selected one of the envelopes. “From a… Mr. Dandelion.” 

Lion. It had to be Marshal Cor Leonis, Noctis knew it. “Thank you!” He grabbed the envelope, a tremor in his fingers, and ripped it open in a hurry.

Sure enough, there was a simple message, straightforward:

_“I hope this finds you well stop. Happy to inform you your father is safe stop. Unfortunate to report he is not well stop. Sick with worry for his son stop. We have friends in Solheim stop. Trying to get in contact stop. Must work quietly stop. Tell Florio his sister and father are alive stop. Tell Fire his calm presence is missed stop. Wait for further word stop. Best regards Dandelion.”_

Noctis swallowed hard, his throat thick and tasting faintly of salt, then turned to Mr. Armaugh, who’d watched him curiously. “It’s a friend of my father. My father… he’s sick, back home…”

“Oh.” Mr. Armaugh’s voice was a mild rumble, like the humming of a diesel engine. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, me too.” Noctis swallowed again, then cleared his throat. “I’m going to send a return message, if that’s alright.”

“Anything you like, young fellow.” Mr. Armaugh put on a visor and rolled out a typewriter. “Go on, now.”

“Right.” Noctis considered his words a moment, carefully composing. “Dear Dandelion, stop. Message received, stop. Tell father I am working hard, stop. Please send my love.” He paused, voice caught in the back of his throat. Mr. Armaugh raised an eyebrow at Noctis and he cleared his throat and hurried on, “Stop. Uh, will await further word, stop. Best Regards, Corona, Stop.” 

Mr. Armaugh typed it out, and Noctis counted out a few small coins to pay for the privilege of talking to his father the only way he could. He sent the telegram off, words echoing emptily in the crowded postal stop with all the faith of a prayer sent to the gods, and returned to where Prompto was cheerfully counting change for a woman with long black hair in a navy dress. He waited for Prompto to wave farewell, but shrugged when he turned around to Noctis.

“My regular. I like her, she’s nice, but it’s weird! She buys a paper, every day, checks the boat schedules, then gives the paper back and goes on her merry way!”

“Weird,” Noctis agreed, shaking his head. “Takes all types, I suppose.”

“Yeah.” Prompto rolled his shoulders, settling his bag in place, then turned to Noctis, grinning. “Did you find what you were looking for today?”

“Yeah.” Noctis managed to smile back. “I, uh, got a message.”

“Oh, ain’t that the bees’ knees!” Prompto laughed and slapped him on the back. “Good news?”

“News, anyway.” Noctis shrugged and walked on, still looking over his shoulder. “I’ve still got people back home, and all.” He looked Prompto over, the bags under his eyes, the smile he still wore. “Do you have any family at home?”

“Nope, home’s here. Just my brothers and sister.” Prompto shrugged his shoulders a little too hard. “But that’s plenty of family for me.”

“Yeah.” Noctis found himself staring, almost admiring the ease with which Prompto faced what sounded like a harrowing new life. How had Prompto settled so easily, after only living here a month longer than Noctis had? He wished his life could be that simple.

He accepted that this was just part of being a Prince on the run. He’d met a lot more people than he ever had in the Citadel castle; so many faces, none of which looked at him twice. None of them were anything like Prompto, because he’d never met anyone like Prompto. He probably never would again.

“I mean,” Prompto added, “I guess I have you, now.” He winked at Noctis, and Noctis felt warm for more reasons than the sun baking the streets. There was such an ease to it. Prompto was so friendly to him, for no reason other than he wanted to be. Noctis didn’t feel like he had to be on guard with him. Not like he would at home, where Ignis and his father often had to warn him about trusting people who might use his position to get some advantage or other, or where Gladio had to put his body between Noctis and someone trying to hurt him just because he was the Prince. Prompto was just Prompto, and he was kind to Noctis just because he wanted to be.

Noctis enjoyed the peaceful days with Prompto. Except in those scant moments when he had to be aware of it, he forgot that he was a Prince, just for a little bit.

Today, however, he’d gotten a stark reminder, and he’d have to do something about it.

* * *

They had fallen into a comfortable routine, the four of them. Most nights, Prompto came and stayed for dinner with them. He’d been teaching all of them to play some of the local card games, or they’d listen to radio dramas and talk and laugh until the hour was too late. Noctis relished those peaceful evenings - they were a nice way to unwind from the day, even crammed into such close quarters.

Noctis had to break their routine that night. When their evening meal was finished, Noctis uncomfortably rubbed his head and slouched over their little table. 

“I’m real tired tonight.” He dolefully looked to Prompto. “I’m sorry, I’m gonna, uh, hit the hay early.” He paused. “Did I say that one right?”

“Hit the hay, yeah.” Prompto looked a little wobbly. “Okay, you do that. Feel better, man.” He hopped up. “Goodnight, Ignis, Gladio!” 

Ignis walked him to the door, and locked it behind them. He pivoted around, all business. “I take it you heard word from home.” 

“Yeah.” Noctis sat right back up. “Here’s what we’ve got.”

Noctis repeated the message from Cor Leonis, as best as he could remember it. Ignis’ brow knit, and Gladio braced himself against the table, knuckles white, muscles tense. It was so little, and yet it was so much.

“A friend in Solheim,” Ignis repeated quietly when Noctis finished. “I must wonder who the Marshal means.”

“Who knows? I’m pretty sure he’s being vague on purpose.” Noctis sighed and drummed his fingers against the thin tabletop, the noise hollow. “Since the telegram has to be relayed all the way from Lucis, someone might recognize something in the message and tell Niflheim where we are.” He glanced between them. “We have to be careful.”

“I understand, but that doesn’t make the lack of concrete communication any more comforting.” Ignis rubbed at his chin, pulling on his lower lip. “And your poor father, Noct…”

“I know,” Noctis muttered, hanging his head.

“What about my dad?” Gladio’s back arched forward, and Noctis shook his head. “And what about Iris?”

“I told you everything.” Noctis sighed. “They’re alive. That’s all Cor’s message said.”

Gladio swung his arm back and thumped his fist against the wall, making the plaster shake and flecks of dust fall to the ground. “That’s not good enough, damn it!” He stormed towards Noctis. “Iris is only fifteen, Noct, and I couldn’t bring her with me because-”

“Because you were too busy protecting me, I know!” Noctis threw his hands up and groaned. “Because I’m the damn Crown Prince! You think I wanted this?!” He shot Gladio a glare, and Gladio clicked his tongue and crossed his arms. “But I’m going to do whatever I can to fix this. Whatever person Cor wants me to talk to, whatever I have to do, I’ll get aid for Lucis.” He heaved a sigh. “I’m the Prince, after all. That’s why my dad wanted me to get out of the city, to go for help, somehow, some way.” He turned between the others. “It’s my job to take care of my people as if they were my own family, and I’ve been away from home too long already.”

Ignis and Gladio traded glances, and Ignis noted. “Well said, Noctis, only do mind how loud you say it.”

“Aye,” Gladio added, “just bring that same fire when you meet with Cor’s contact here.” He slouched over to his bedroll. “Alright, I’m up at the crack of dawn to move rocks. We should get some sleep.”

“Yeah,” Noctis agreed with a sigh, feeling too tired already.

He had hope, but it felt so small and faint, especially when there were so many unknowns. He tried to hold onto that - there might be someone who could help him. There might be some way home, some way to help his country, his people. He tried so hard not to dwell on everyone who was waiting for him to save their day, but it still did when he let it catch him off guard.

He had things he liked about life here, but he knew it couldn’t last. Not with those distant shadows of the war in Lucis ever at his heels.

* * *

And yet, it was what sat in the shadows on the other side of the wall that had truly shifted.

Prompto had been awoken by an impact on the wall, surrounded by his sleeping ‘brothers,’ just in time to hear Noctis say those fateful words: _“Because I’m the damn Crown Prince!”_

Prompto shot to alertness and threw himself against the wall, panting and grasping at his chest at that impact. His heart and mind sped off like they were being pulled by a galloping horse:

The Crown Prince. The Crown Prince of Lucis. Noctis was _the Crown Prince_ of the missing Royal Family, and he was here to hide and get help for Lucis.

_He was so nice, though._

But Lucians were the enemy.

_A Lucian had spared him._

A Lucian general had stricken him and told him to run _but that was how he’d found Aranea._

Prompto doubled over, wheezing as he tried to process it - the Lucian Prince, his enemy, his friend - how could he have missed it?! The moment Noctis realized what he was, he was as good as dead!

Prompto got a full breath, and panted hard a few times, filling his lungs. Around him, all the others were still sleeping. The universe hadn’t collapsed because a Niflheim soldier had accidentally made friends with the Prince of Lucis.

Noctis was kind. Prompto could finally exhale at the thought of Noctis’ soft, shy smile. Noctis had such a gentle way about him, such a kind smile. Prompto really liked spending all day with him, reveled in listening to him laugh, enjoyed every moment they spent together. Noctis was his distraction from the things that woke him up in the middle of the night.

And if the Crown Prince of Lucis was in Solheim, then the war could very well come here too.

Prompto slumped back down onto his bedroll, his hand coming to cover his slowing heart. Sleep wouldn’t return, even as Prompto heard his friends (the Lucians) settling down through the wall. The horror of what he now knew possessed him.

As much joy as Noctis brought Prompto, the thought of the war between Gralea and Lucis chasing him here was as frightening as anything could possibly be.


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto contends with the new information he has about Noctis and tries to mesh it with the Noctis he knows.

**5:**

The tenement had communal showers on every other floor, so when wanted to Prompto wash away his morning grime and troubles, he grabbed a little basket that he had to share with Loqi and tramped down the stairs in his birthday suit with a towel around his waist. The showers were only warm half the time and Prompto didn’t always feel dirty enough to want to bother with the cold spray.

However, after a night spent tossing and turning, stomach churning, head aching, and rolling in his troubles, Prompto wanted to wash up. 

He scampered down the stairs, towel held in one hand, basket swinging in the other, and bypassed the toilet stalls for the showers. There were multiple spigots on the wall in one large tiled room, all headed for a single drain. Prompto had learned from experience that the spigot closest to the East wall was most likely to spray hot, so he picked his corner, put his basket down, and twisted the knobs to turn the water on.

The first warm spray hit him, and he sighed as it soothed away some of his aches. He pressed his palms to the wall and inhaled deeply, relishing the warmth as it seeped into his bones. He squeezed his eyes shut as the water ran into his hair, making his worries feel much smaller and farther away than he knew they were.

Then, too close, “Good morning.”

Noctis! Prompto jumped and nearly slipped, but Noctis dashed forth and grabbed his hand to steady him. “Whoa, easy, sorry, didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“N-nah, you’re fine!” Prompto straightened up, laughing nervously, until the situation registered.

Noctis was standing in front of him, and he was naked.

The Crown Prince of Lucis, right here, wearing nothing but a towel around his hips, and he was this close to Prompto. 

Noctis’ chest was skinny, but smooth and toned, nothing like Prompto’s shallow breastbone and old scars. He turned quickly, face bright red, and Noctis chuckled. 

“Are you shy? Seriously? We practically live in each other’s pockets with these close quarters.”

Prompto pressed his bare wrist and his old brand to his own chest, and forced another nervous, high-pitched laugh. “Y-yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m used to people looking at my privates! They’re _private,_ Noct.”

Noctis laughed, pleasant and warm. “Okay, okay; I won’t look.” He put down a bottle of soap. “Mind if I shower with you? Ignis says I smell like the river after the fishermen finish the slaughter.”

Prompto chuckled. “Sure, go ahead. You can have this shower, it’s the warm one.” He stepped out of the spray, carefully keeping his back to Noctis so Noctis wouldn’t be able to see his scars, and plucked his shampoo out of the basket.

As Noctis began to scrub himself down under the spray, Prompto washed his hair and tried to think about the situation again. Noctis was so warm and friendly, nothing like the Lucian soldiers he’d faced every day; but then, he’d been an enemy combatant. 

“You know,” Noctis said softly, and Prompto saw him glancing his way. “You don’t have to be shy around me. We’re both humans, right?”

“W-well, yeah, but you’re a way better looking human. Seriously.” Prompto shyly glanced over Noctis. He was filled out, healthy-looking: Prompto could tell he’d been taken care of his whole life, and he’d been born to be beautiful. Noctis’ arms and chest looked so strong. 

Noctis just snorted in response. “I’m not much, really. Just another person.” His mouth pinched a little, and he turned a few times to wash the soap off of himself. Prompto quickly turned away before he caught a glimpse of the Crown Jewels, but Noctis cleared his throat. “Hey, uh, when you’re done washing your hair, would you mind scrubbing my back?”

Prompto glanced back again, and he realized Noctis was flushing a little, and the water wasn’t hot enough to cause that. Prompto bit his lower lip, then smiled. “Sure, if you could get mine in return.”

He took Noctis’ wash cloth and rubbed soap in little circles on his back. He could still feel Noctis’ muscles through the thin terrycloth, and bit his lower lip as he wondered how Noctis had gotten strong. It wasn’t just from carrying papers around with him, was it? No way. 

“You’ve got muscles, man, I’m so jealous!” 

“What do you have to be jealous of?” Noctis glanced over his shoulder, eyes quickly rover Prompto. “You look strong too.”

“I….” It was Prompto’s turn to flush now, face too hot, and he smiled nervously. “I guess it just comes from working all day.” 

“Maybe.” Noctis took his cloth from Prompto. “Turn around, you could use a wash-up too.” 

Noctis seemed to know just how to scrub Prompto’s back, really firm and deep. Prompto sighed in the relief of the water, and slowly let his arms fall. Noctis scrubbed the back of his arms, too. “Wow, you have better muscles than Gladio…” 

“Shut up,” Prompto chuckled.

“No, seriously. I bet you could lift me.”

“No way!” Prompto spun about, just as Noctis leaned in.

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” He smirked, and Prompto’s heart hammered.

He was naked, face to face with the Crown Prince of Lucis. 

Prompto’s heart hammered rapidly, and he spun around. Oh, Six, he was naked with _the Crown Prince of Lucis_ and Prompto still hadn’t figured out how he felt about Noctis _being_ the Prince. 

Not when Noctis was still just Noctis.

Noctis was blushing now too. “Ah… I…”

“S-sorry. I…” Prompto pressed his hand over his heart. “I, um, better go get dressed!” He spun to grab his towel and pat himself dry, then hurried back up the stairs with his hair still dripping. 

* * *

Prompto felt his breath hitch the next time he saw Noctis, clean and wearing freshly pressed trousers and a vest with new buttons stitched on. He grinned when he saw Prompto. “Sorry about earlier, I didn’t know you were so shy about sharing the bath!”

“Hey, a guy’s gotta have some secrets, right?” Prompto bashfully covered his chest, grinning, though he couldn’t fake the scarlet in his cheeks at the thought of Noctis actually seeing all of him.

_(Crown Prince Noctis.)_

Noctis, meanwhile, shook his head, chuckling. “It’s fine. I’ve got some stuff I’d rather not let people see, but it’s hidden in my closet back home.” He winked at Prompto, as Prompto pretended to be scandalized and gasped.

“No way, are you hiding the goods an ocean away from us?!”

“I didn’t get a chance to bring them with us.” Noctis winked. “I’ll have to start a new collection, but it’ll be a lot harder to hide my secret chocolates from Ignis here.”

Prompto laughed, and the two of them traipsed down the stairs to get to work.

_(Working with Crown Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum.)_

Prompto tried to put it out of his mind that Noctis was a Prince, because he wasn’t a Prince in Solheim, right? He was just another guy selling newspapers here. It didn’t matter who he was or what he’d left hidden an ocean away, and besides that, the Lucian Royals had kind of been deposed, hadn’t they? Was Noctis still a Prince when the King had been removed from the throne?

“Extra, extra! Read all about it!” Noctis called, voice clear even in the muggy atmosphere, and waved his paper in the air. “Niflheim Escalates Against Lucian Resistance!”

“Rumors of High Ranking Lucian Military Re-Emerging Abound!” Prompto added, then paused as a familiar woman with long, straight black hair wearing a blue dress tapped his arm.

“Thank you, my dear.” She handed him too much money with a genial, polite smile, and flipped right to the boat schedule. “I appreciate you spreading the good news.” She paused on a page, then refolded the paper and handed it back to Prompto. “Hopefully you will have the news I am seeking soon.” 

“Um, sure.” Prompto frowned and re-wrapped the paper, as Noctis turned around. “Gosh, she’s nice, but she’s an odd bird.”

“Odd bird, huh?” Noctis scratched his head. “I guess that just means she’s unique, right?”

“Nah, it means she’s weird.” Prompto stuck his tongue out at him. “But not in a bad way!”

“Pretty sure that just means she’s unique.” Noctis tugged his cheek. “At least she gave you the paper back when she was done so it won’t go to waste!”

“Yeah, she bought ‘Nea’s copy.” Prompto laughed and pocketed it, and Noctis chuckled, then turned and waved his paper again.

“Extra! Extra! All the news that’s fit to print!” Noctis lifted his chin, black hair bold against the smoky yellow sky, looking regal as he put on a broad smile, and Prompto’s heart skipped a beat again. 

Talking to Noctis, laughing with Noctis, those little things made the day go faster. Prompto was so used to spending every day with him now that he couldn’t really remember what those first few weeks were like. However, he couldn’t reconcile the friendly, snarky, curious Noctis Prompto knew with the idea of a Lucian Prince.

Noble royalty. Dangerous enemy. Best friend. 

Prompto didn’t know what to think. Noctis still seemed like just the same person, even if Prompto knew he wasn’t what he thought he was.

It only made him wonder - _was_ Noctis different from what Prompto thought he was?

Noctis insisted on stopping at the telegram office again, but he wasn’t as long today. Prompto waited outside, selling a few papers as he waited, until Noctis emerged. 

“Anything for you today?”

“Nah.” Noctis rubbed the back of his head. “I should be more patient, but it’s hard.”

Prompto sucked on his lower lip for a moment, then considered carefully. He didn’t want to upset Noctis, but he still wanted to ask a question. He decided the worst that could happen was that Noctis would blow him off, and he would drop it the second he realized he’d pushed too hard. 

“I gotta ask, what are you waiting for?”

Noctis’ eyes shuttered, and his gaze fell to the ground. “News from home. We still have family there.”

Prompto’s chest panged. “Yeah, I remember. Have you heard anything?”

“They’re… okay.” Noctis shifted his weight with discomfort, brow knit up and shoulders tense. “I haven’t heard much. I don’t know what they’re going to do, either.” 

“Yeah? I guess they might want to leave for the same reason you did.” Prompto fought with himself to keep from blurting out the reason why that might be: _I guess all deposed royalty might need to flee._

“I dunno.” Noctis sighed. “I wished they’d come with us, but I understand why they wanted to stay.”

“Yeah.” Prompto bit his lip, as Noctis’ face twisted into a difficult expression, as clouded as the skies overhead. He swallowed his worries, and gave Noctis a nudge with his elbow in a friendly way. “But hopefully you’ll get to see them again! You can go home someday, right? Or maybe they’ll make it here, right? If nothing else, you have me and Ignis and Gladio to keep you company!”

Noctis smiled weakly. “Yeah. I’m really grateful for that.” 

Prompto smiled back, hoping that giving Noctis a mirror to match would keep the smile on his face. He tried to put himself in Noctis’ shoes: forced out of his home by someone else, far away from so many he cared about and not of his own volition. Prompto vaguely remembered his own family, how he’d cried for them for months after he’d been taken from his home. 

“Happy to help you, buddy.” He slung an arm around his shoulder. “Come on, let’s sell off these last few papers, I’m gonna get you a real treat tonight.” 

Prompto set aside a few extra coins for himself, and took Noctis to a place he could only go every once in a while - a little shop by the docks that sold lobster rolls. 

“I’m pretty sure Ignis would hate this,” Prompto told him, “these are made with these really cheap scavenger shellfish - like, seriously, they’re basically bugs! And people who don’t have a lot of money have to eat them a lot, and they’re hard to shell and prepare, but when you get the meat out and cover it in butter, it’s really good!”

“Covered in butter?” Noctis took the roll, loaded with sticky, greasy, butter-sweet lobster meat, and took a bite. His eyes went huge and wide. “Whoa.”

Noctis greedily ate the whole thing in a few big bites, and he and Prompto shared a cup of fried potatoes together. They sat on the docks and skipped stones from the shore bed across the water, watching the ripples as the stones skidded and sank, until the fried potatoes were gone. 

Noctis sounded more at ease when he made the call: “We should get back before the others worry about us.” He stood, and offered Prompto a hand. “Come on, man.”

When Prompto took his hand and let Noctis pull him up, smiling as they came nearly chest to chest, Prompto forgot completely that Noctis was a Prince. He was just a friend.

That night, after Prompto listened to the radio with Ignis, Gladio, and Noctis for a long while. After one of their favorite running dramas - a classical adventure with a knight going on a long quest to save a princess from a tower, with many misadventures and distractions - there was a familiar chime, and an announcement:

_“Good evening, Solheim. This is your Conservateur, Lady Aera, speaking. I wish to update you all on the current state of affairs regarding the Niflheim Empire’s ongoing march through the Lucian continent…”_

Noctis scoffed loudly. “Turn it off.” He twisted his body in his chair as if he could avoid the radio if he didn’t look at it. Gladio clicked his tongue, and Ignis hushed him, a finger to his lips.

“I’d rather like to listen, thank you.” He fixed Noctis with a chilly stare that made Prompto shrink down to avoid it like its touch might burn him if he got in the middle, but Noctis stood.

“No, let’s just change it.” He turned the dial to a radio station, but the radio seemed to play her announcement on every frequency. 

“Public announcement system, man,” Prompto mumbled, and Noctis scoffed and finally just turned the radio off. Ignis’ mouth was wrenched down but Prompto pointed out, “You can probably still hear her on the speakers outside.” 

Ignis sauntered over to the window and leaned his head out, as Gladio slapped at Noctis’ arm.

“Don’t you care what’s going on in the world?” He gave Noctis a significant look, and if Prompto hadn’t heard what he’d heard through the wall the night before, that expression might have given him pause. However, he now understood, but even so, Noctis’ reaction was still a mystery.

“What difference does it make?” His gaze glanced off of Prompto. “What are we supposed to do about those assholes from here?”

“Language, Noct,” Ignis said softly.

“It doesn’t matter what I call them, we’re here, not there.” Noctis crossed his arms, and Gladio abruptly stood. Prompto shrank down, but Noctis grabbed his shoulder to bolster him. “Gladio-”

“No, you listen.” Gladio put his hands on his hips. “We might not be anywhere near where the fighting is happening, but if things don’t change, Niflheim _is_ going to change the entire world. Not just Lucis, but Tenebrae and Galahd, everything, everywhere. If you don’t think they’re coming for Solheim, think again.”

“I thought we came to Solheim because it looked like the Niffs were coming here last.” Prompto flinched, but Noctis’ bracing hold turned into a grip. Gladio’s fists, pressed against his hips, tightened too.

“Idiot,” he grunted, shaking his head. “Even if that’s true, and even if they never make it here, do you really want to stay here forever?” He threw his hands out, and when he fully extended his arms, he could very nearly reach both sides of the room. “This city is miserable. We’re making the best of it, but hell, Noct, we might be able to eat better than we did back home but we ain’t able to do much more than this! You really wanna live like this?”

“Is this really so bad?” Noctis’ gaze glanced off of Prompto again. “We came here to be safe and make the best of things, and there are good things!” Gladio gave a sharp laugh, and Noctis jumped to his feet. “Isn’t there anything good about Solheim?!” He tugged Prompto’s collar. “Prompto, isn’t there anything good about Solheim?” 

Prompto stammered for a moment, as Noctis, face imploring, shook his shoulder. “Like, that market? Like all the people you talk to? Like getting sandwiches and sharing them with me and - don’t you like it here?”

“I-” Prompto stammered a moment, but Ignis loudly put his foot down as he pivoted around.

“Gentlemen, I believe we’ve had quite enough for the evening.” Ignis planted himself between Gladio and Noctis. “Both of you should go clean your teeth, we all have to work in the morning.” He put on a diplomatic smile when he faced Prompto. “It was a pleasure to have your company. Please do forgive us for squabbling in your presence.” His smile tightened like someone had turned thumbscrews on it. “Sibling rivalry. You surely understand.”

Prompto almost protested, until he remembered they were pretending to be brothers, and not a Prince and his bodyguards. He left as Noctis and Gladio, grumbling, got their bathroom kits together, and hurried to the door. Gladio caught his arm as he passed him on his way out.

“Hey. Uh.” He jerked his head towards Ignis without breaking eye contact. “He’s right. Didn’t mean to drag you into our stuff.”

“Yeah,” Noctis mumbled, “Sorry about that.”

Prompto glanced between Gladio and Noctis, Gladio looking him in the eye and Noctis with his head hung again, and smiled for them. “It’s okay. We’re all just people, right?” 

“Right.” Gladio nodded and gave a quick wink. “G’night, kid.”

“Night, Prompto.” Noctis smiled a little, and Prompto felt a little better leaving things there. 

As he changed into his sleep shirt and hung his trousers up to air them out, stepping over his brothers on their mats, he couldn’t help but dwell on just how normal they were. How starkly that contrasted with who they were. How different that was from him.

Who would have thought a lowly Gralean ex-soldier could become friends with a Prince?

With those heavy thoughts weighing on his mind, sleep didn’t come to Prompto easily. It didn’t help that Aurel was whimpering softly into his pillow, that Verse was muttering and either laying there awake or sleeping with his eyes open (and Prompto didn’t know which was worse). The room felt too warm and stuffy, too, and Prompto tossed and turned, before giving up. He went to push the window open in hopes of getting a little fresh air, then levered himself out onto the windowsill.

The skies were clearer at night, with the furnaces slowing down, belching less smoke into the sky. Prompto could see the moon and stars peering between the clouds, and probably better than he could from the ground, this many floors up. The skies were inky blue, the stars twinkling like streetlights far, far away. The streetcar rumbling down the road sounded distant. Prompto forgot just where he was, in a way. It was just him and the night sky.

“Hey.”

The window next to him swung open, and Noctis was leaning out. “Wow, this looks kind of unsafe. Are the windows supposed to swing out like that?”

“Yeah, I guess it’s if the building catches fire, we can just push out the windows to escape. That way, we can die when we hit the pavement instead of burning to death.” Prompto grinned a little grimly, and Noctis winced but smiled weakly as he swung his legs out over the windowsill and scooted closer to where Prompto was sitting.

“Let’s just not fall.” He reached out to Prompto and took his hand. “See, now you can’t fall, or you’ll take me with you.”

Prompto chuckled, and slid over on the sill so Noctis wouldn’t have to reach as far. “Sure, fine.” Noctis sighed with relief. “It’s not like I want to fall, you know!” 

“Yeah, I know.” Noctis smiled, mouth like the crescent of the moon. “I’d hope not, anyway. What brings you out here?”

“Can’t sleep.” Prompto glanced back towards his brothers, asleep in their bedrolls. He couldn’t hear them whimpering out here. “It’s warm inside tonight.” He paused, then dared to be a little more honest. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Yeah?” Noctis’ grip on his hand tightened a little. “Me too.”

“Oh.” Prompto tried to sound surprised, but he was pretty sure it didn’t come across. “What’s up, man?”

“What you said earlier. What we were talking about earlier.” Noctis worried his lower lip in his teeth, and Prompto could see him thinking. “I… I do want to go home, you know.”

“Oh.” Prompto wasn’t too surprised by that either, not knowing what he knew. “I guess…”

“I _can’t._ I can’t go home, there’s… it’s complicated.” He sighed, and the fingers of his other hand drummed on the sill beside him. “But I have family, and a place to live that’s, you know, a little nicer than this.”

“So, basically anywhere but here.” 

Noctis snorted. “There are places that are worse than here. Ignis tells me to be grateful we have somewhere to live at all.”

Prompto quietly thought of the last place he’d lived, when he’d had a specific “place where I live.” He couldn’t call that place “home” at all. “Yeah, there are definitely worse places than this.”

“Yeah, but… home is still better.” He sighed. “I miss my dad, and the rest, and I want to see them.” He turned his face towards the moon, and the ports past that. “But I can’t go home. I just _can’t_ no matter how much I want to.” He sighed. “I miss them so much. I just need to figure out a way to help everyone else.”

“I know what you mean,” Prompto found himself saying. Perhaps it was exhaustion, or just the stress of the day spent carrying Noctis' secret like a stone in his satchel wearing him down, but the truth came out of him as sure as if it had been pressed out. “I mean, at least a little.” He pointed to the window behind him. “My family… They’re all the only family I have, and I’m happy I have them! And I’m happy I have you. I guess for me, I’m more looking for a home to go to.” He bowed his head as he thought. “Aranea helped me - all of us - get here from… a bad situation… and we’ve all just been getting by, you know? But I’ve never thought harder about what comes next, what else I want out of life. A real home would be kind of nice, I think.” He swung his legs a little over the edge. “When I sit around with you guys, that kind of makes my day. Like, I care about my brothers, and I love ‘Nea, but… you guys make me feel like I’m really at home.” 

“Really?” Noctis cocked his head, turning to face him, and Prompto felt his face go red. 

“Y-yeah. I admit, I did my job because it was just a job that I could do, but doing it with you, it makes it so much easier. I really look forward to going out with you in the morning, and spending the day with you. I’ve never had a friend like that before!” He laughed nervously, and scrubbed his hand down his face. “You must think I sound crazy-”

“No, I get it. I don’t think I’ve had a friend like you before, either.” Noctis shifted, turning his whole body towards Prompto on the sill. “I think I’d get bored to death just hawking newspapers all day if I didn’t have you to keep me company.”

Prompto chuckled a little and pulled his knees in. Noctis still hadn’t let go of his hand. “Yeah, but… it’s more than that, you know?” He didn’t know the words were coming until they came: “I know you might want to go home someday, but I kind of wish I could stay with you forever. I don’t know what I’m gonna do with the rest of my life, but I know I like you and I want to be with you! I just… I like being your friend, and I don’t want that to change.”

“Hey.” Noctis tugged his hand, and Prompto turned towards him to see his face, completely serious. “I can find a place for you, if you don’t want it to be here, okay? When I go home, I can take you with me. You’re good for so much more than what you can _do_ , you just _are_ good, okay? You’re the first person I’ve ever met who's just been nice to me, because you wanted to be nice.” He gripped Prompto’s hand with his other hand. “Whatever the future holds, I’d like it if you were there with me.” 

His hands were shaking. Prompto felt shaky too. 

“Do you mean that?” He tried not to hold Noctis’ hand too hard, but Noctis wasn’t letting go.

“Yeah.” Noctis smiled, his shy face brightening in the moonlight, and he leaned in. “I… I know it sounds strange, and… can I?”

“Yeah?”

It was a question. Noctis’ answer was a soft, chaste kiss on the lips. He leaned over the gap between their sills, pulling himself close and anchoring him to Prompto by their hands, and kissed him. It was brief, and Noctis jerked back a second after landing it with surprise in his face, as if he hadn’t expected to actually touch Prompto. Prompto’s face burned, his blush like a fever, and he covered his own lips, wondering if he’d imagined that kiss. 

Nobody had ever kissed him, not since he’d last seen his parents, and nobody had kissed him like that before!

“Wow,” was all he could say, feeling the stars sparkling in his heart. “I mean it, wow!”

“Wow?” Noctis repeated, laughing, “Are you - did you, you know, like it?”

“Like it? Gosh, Noct, are you for real?! It - that - you’re -” He stammered on his emotions - there were so many, and he’d never felt so much at once before! - then took hold of Noctis’ hands again. “You’re the best. Noct, I - can we?”

“Yeah,” Noctis whispered, and leaned in again, eyelashes fluttering as he closed his eyes. Prompto laced his fingers with Noctis, their clasped hands hanging between the windowsills, then leaned in and kissed him deep and sweet in return. He had never felt so clumsy, trading kisses, knocking jaws and teeth, nipping lips and tongue, but Noctis was holding his hand desperately tight, and Prompto never wanted it to end, never wanted to let go.

Prince or paperboy, Prompto wanted to be with Noctis, too.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185425540@N02/50373243933/in/dateposted-public/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks again to Scarlett for the illustration!!


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto enjoys a few surprising developments in his life, as Noctis learns of an interesting development in an effort to get help for Lucis...

**6:**

For the first time Prompto could remember, he didn’t have nightmares when he tumbled back into bed. He was soaring, over the moon as his thoughts lingered on the kisses Noctis had given him. He had never expected Noctis to kiss him, to want him like that, to feel so strongly about him.

He’d never thought he’d feel the same way. He’d never felt that way about anyone before. 

He slept like a baby, replaying the vision of Noctis coming closer to him, his soft lips touching Prompto’s, the way his eyes sparkled in the moonlight when they parted. 

He was still walking on air when he woke, his steps a little floaty as he dressed for the day and went to help Aranea make breakfast for the others. Loqi was scowling as he peeled apples, and Aranea toasted bread in the pan. Loqi scoffed as Prompto shuffled past him.

“Up all night talking out the window.”

“Oh?” Aranea turned around, an eyebrow raised, and smirked a little. “You look all dreamy.”

“Me and the neighbor kid were talking.” Prompto grinned as he took the jar of honey from the counter and began spreading it on the toasted bread. “He’s just great.”

“He’s just great,” Loqi repeated, sneering. “That milksop brat? He looks more stupid than you.”

“Shut up, he’s nice,” Prompto muttered, hunching his shoulders. Aranea clicked her tongue. 

“Boys, no fighting, it’s too early.” She sighed, then flipped the bread and gave a yawn. “But you and that kid are friends, huh?” She nudged Prompto with her elbow, then passed him another slice of bread. “We need five sandwiches. I’m taking Verse and Aurel to see someone, see what they can do about…” She trailed off, then indicatively tapped her own head. Prompto winced, but continued to spread the bread with honey, then layered it with slices of apple. 

He didn’t need to ask. He knew too well.

Aranea tapped his hand. “It’s looking good. We just might see some change if what this specialist I’ve been talking to told me is true.”

Prompto swallowed hard and nodded, but Loqi just scoffed.

Loqi took his sandwich the moment it was bagged and scuttled off to work without a second look back, and Prompto held the door as Aranea, dressed in her nicest clothing, a home-tailored wool jacket and the same long skirt she wore to work, as well as a dainty hat with a satin flower in the brim, ushered the two youngest of their little crew into the hallway. However, they came into the hall at the same time as Gladio. Prompto noticed Gladio giving them a sideways stare as she herded the two with her arms. 

However, even though Gladio gave them the hairy eyeball, he stepped aside to let them pass. “Miss Aranea,” he muttered with a wary look. 

“Gladdy.” Aranea smirked, but didn’t give Gladio a second look. Gladio watched them go, then turned to Prompto.

“Is your sister the bartender at that place across the way? I had no clue. What’s with your, uh-”

“They’re sick,” Prompto said quickly and quietly. “Really sick. Aranea’s hoping to get them some medicine.”

“Oh. Huh.” Gladio stared in the same direction Aranea had gone, and Prompto couldn’t tell what he was thinking at all. However, Gladio finally just snorted. “Suppose it’s not my place to say, but… whatever. You waiting for Noct?”

“Oh, um, yeah.” Prompto bit his lip, and Gladio chuckled, rolled his eyes, and turned back into his tenement room. A moment later, there was a ruckus behind the door, and a moment after that, Gladio emerged and deposited a very sleepy-looking Noctis on the floor before Prompto. Prompto stifled a laugh but tugged Noctis’ askew suspender up onto his shoulder.

“G’morning, buddy. Ready to go?”

Noctis smacked his lips, slid his gaze over to Gladio with a scowl that would make lesser men shiver (Gladio just made a rude noise with his tongue and stalked off to get to work himself), then turned to Prompto, weary but with a pleased little smile. “Ready as I’m gonna be.”

“Super cool.” Prompto hesitated, then slung an arm over his shoulder. Noctis naturally leaned onto him. “Let’s go get the papers!”

“Yeah, let’s.” Noctis stumbled along at his side. Prompto realized he was probably tired because he’d sat up watching the stars with Prompto. 

Prompto happily propped him up all the way into the city, waiting for him to perk up again. He wouldn’t trade his precious moments with Noctis for anything, either. 

Not for Verse and Aurel, not for the ability not to be scared of Gladio. He would sit up with Noctis every night if he could feel as happy as he had with Noctis at his side.

* * *

Noctis wanted to spend the entire day with Prompto, not worry about home or think about how to escape living in secrecy. As selfish as it was, he was enjoying just having someone who cared about him as a person rather than a Prince, not thinking about how he was going to save his homeland. 

Even so, he knew the war marched on without him. Ignis had made certain to lecture him fully about what Conservateur Aera had said in her radio address the night before...

_“They’ve nearly captured Cleigne. They’ll take Lestallum unless the tide turns.” Ignis had spoken as neutrally as he could, but Noctis had heard the fear trembling in the bass of his register. “Lady Aera is downplaying the reality, but the news out of both Lucis and Niflheim is most indicative of ill omens. The only thing keeping them at bay is that some of the Lucian main forces have been staging guerilla warfare from the mountains to divide their forces, but we have no way of knowing how long Lucis will be able to hold them back.” He shook his head and returned to his own bedroll. “I only hope we have an opportunity to make the tide turn ourselves. We may need you to lead, to take up those first steps forward, but Noctis, you cannot lead by ignoring the facts and avoiding action.”_

_“I know,” Noctis had groaned and pulled his knees in, rubbing his eyes. “I had to shout about it in the street all day. I heard the morning announcements and the evening address, do you really think I need to hear about how bad my country is while I’m away?”_

_Ignis pursed his lips. “I… I know, Highness.” He shifted on his bedroll, stretching his legs out but twisting at the waist to face Noctis. “Please believe, it is not that I don’t trust you to take action, I only want to ensure you are aware.”_

_“If I knew better what to do, I’d do it.”_

_“I know.” Ignis sighed and reached for Noctis. “I’m speaking to you as a friend. The situation is dire, but there is hope. You just need to keep your ear to the ground.”_

_“I am, I promise. The moment I figure it out…” Noctis sighed and tipped his head back, then reached for Ignis’ ankle. “You’re… you are my friend first, you know that, right?” Ignis didn’t answer immediately, but Noctis turned towards him. “We’ve known each other for as long as I can remember. I’ve never thought of you or Gladio as servants.”_

_“We’re both well aware.” Ignis smiled wryly. “It’s why the ploy of being brothers came so easily to us. We’re friends, yes, but you are still our Prince.”_

_Noctis heaved another weighty sigh, and turned from Ignis. “I’ll do what I can.”_

_“I believe in you. I know you’ll do what’s right for Lucis. Good night.” With that, Ignis turned over to sleep, but Noctis found himself lying awake as Ignis slept and Gladio began to snore beside him._

Noctis knew he was right. There was no way to have it both ways, He would just have to spend the time he could with Prompto and enjoy every moment, but when the time came to help Lucis, he would have to step up to the podium, so to speak, even if such a step meant leaving Prompto behind.

Leaving Prompto outside of the post office to check for telegrams was made nearly painful with that in mind. 

Mr. Armaugh lifted his head the moment Noctis pushed the door, the bell still jingling. “Ah, Mr. Corona. Just the man I was hoping to see. You had an urgent message come in this morning, but I don’t have an address or telephone on file.” He shot Noctis a sharp look, but extended his hand with an envelope between his index and middle fingers. Noctis tore the envelope open in a hurry, and read:

_“Hope you are well stop. Arranged for a meeting with a friend stop. Twentieth of Julius at eleven stop. Meet Gil at corner of Sixth and Ardent stop. Anything will help stop.Your father has faith in you stop. Hope to speak to a nice lady stop. We are depending on you stop. From Dandelion stop.”_

“The twentieth - that’s two days away.” Noctis swallowed hard, and faced Mr. Armaugh. “This came in this morning?”

“Late last night, if I’m being honest.” Mr. Armaugh shrugged a bit, but scrolled his wheeled chair over to the telegram post. “Sending a reply?”

“Ah, sure.” Noctis looked down at the message in his hand, shifting uncomfortably where he stood. He wished he could send happy messages about his new life, about his new friend, but how could he boast about the tiny bit of happiness he had eked out of his horrible conundrum. “Er. Let’s say, ‘To Dandelion, stop. Happy to receive your message, stop. Thank you for making introductions, stop. Will do my best, stop. Send regards to all the relatives, stop.” He paused. “I have a lot to tell you when I see you again, stop. Hope it’s soon, stop. Yours, Corona.”

Armaugh finished typing, then craned his neck back to study Noctis. “Mind you keep these messages simple, boy. Remember, I have to charge you by the word.”

“Yeah, I know.” Noctis sighed and counted out his coins. “Thanks, sir.” He paid Armaugh then went back outside to where Prompto was waiting for him, eating what looked like an apple sandwich and pinching bits of bread off to feed a nearby pigeon. His face brightened when his gaze caught Noctis’ face, beaming. 

“Hey, Noct! Any good news?”

“Um, yeah.” Noctis shoved the envelope in his vest pocket. “I’ve got a meeting with someone who might be able to help my family.”

Prompto audibly gasped, getting to his feet all at once. “Are you serious? I - that’s - I’m-” Prompto chewed on word salad for a moment, and Noctis smiled, unable to help it, as he finally managed to choke out, “That’s so great! That’s wonderful!” He circled right to Noctis’ side, hoisting up his bag. Noctis noticed his brow knit up, like he was worried about something. Had he already noticed Noctis’ nerves about it?

Or was it something else?

“I mean,” he went on, chattering as he trotted along at Noctis’ side, “I’ll miss you if, or when you go home, but it’s good you get a chance to make things a little better!”

“Oh.” Noctis realized what might have Prompto unnerved, and nudged his side. “Hey, remember what I told you. Whatever happens to me, I want something good to happen to you, too. If I get to go home and you want to come with, I’ll make it happen.”

Prompto’s smile in response was watery, and Noctis put an arm around his shoulder. “I like being with you. We’ll figure it out.”

“Thanks, Noct.”

“Yeah, of course.” 

Noctis meant it. He didn’t know what the future held for Prompto, but he was hoping to make the future better for everyone. He was grateful he was going to get his chance.

* * *

The next morning, Prompto woke to strange noise in the main room. When he staggered out of his bedroll, he saw that Aranea had set up a phonograph on a little table next to the window, but rather than music playing from the horn, like the evening broadcasts or the old phonograph Cid sometimes played in his office, there was a curious noise that was not music, but like music. There was a melody, but it seeed random, and all the noises flowed together. It wasn’t unpleasant, but Prompto didn’t find it enjoyable, really. However, what was interesting was that Verse and Aurel were both sitting in front of the horn, staring into it as sound flowed out of it like a rushing river, Aurel in a daze and Verse looking thoughtful. That was definitely different.

“Good morning, guys.” He was about to turn and grab his shower kit when he heard something unexpected:

“Good morning, 05953234.”

“Good morning.” 

Prompto pivoted right back around, and he realized both Aurel and Verse were looking at him now. He clenched his jaw to keep it from dropping, swallowed, and faced them again.

“Uh, did ‘Nea get you guys that phonogram?”

“The doctor,” Aurel said, his voice small and monotone. “She said it would help. The music helps.”

“Yes,” Verse confirmed. He spoke stiffly, but his voice sounded so much like Prompto’s that he was unnerved all over again. “It’s… it’s helping me think around the noise.” He rubbed his own head, then turned to Prompto. “Are you… Prompto?”

“Yeah.” Prompto took a knee. “And you’re Verse. And you’re Aurel now. We’re not numbers, okay?”

Verse gave a jerky nod, but Aurel just pursed his lips, then looked back at the record player.

“They’re not as loud,” he said softly, “but I can still hear them. I want them to go away.”

“I concur.” Verse scooted closer to the phonogram, his body small next to the table even though he was nearly as tall as Prompto. Prompto let himself gawk as the two of them lost themselves in the sound again, trying to reabsorb that impossible moment.

Aurel, who’d done nothing but cry and whimper since Aranea had rescued him. Verse, who had been silent and stonefaced since they’d arrived here. Talking as if they always had been.

Prompto went out into the hall to see Aranea propped against the wall beside the door, reading out of a small book. Her eyes tipped over the edge when the door opened, and she granted Prompto a sweet little smile. 

“Hey shortcake. I take it the other two kids surprised you?”

“Yeah, seriously!” Prompto tried to restrict his surprise to a whisper. “They’re halfway human all of a sudden!”

“Pretty wild, right? Something about the frequencies, stuff we can’t actually hear. It’s like magic.” Aranea made a few vague motions with one hand, like she was sprinkling fairy dust all over him. “It’s fixing the damage that was done that we can’t see. It’s not perfect, but we’re gonna test it and tweak it until we can actually sort everything that got scrambled in their brains.” She grinned now, looking just a little vicious and excited. “I’m glad to see them make some progress, even if that sound grinds my gears. Just think what we could do if we could actually fix the damage done to everyone who went through what they did.”

“Y-yeah,” Prompto stammered, then clapped a hand to his mouth: taken by surprise by his own burst of anxiety. “I… we could…”

Aranea folded her book over and clasped Prompto’s shoulder. “Relax, sweetie. I promise only to use my power for good.” She then ruffled his hair. “Now, you go on and get that shower, you smell like the wrong end of a wet cat.” 

“Hush, I smell like the bottom of a bed of roses and you know it!” Laughing sloughed off the shivers, and Prompto trotted for the showers. 

Still, the thought of the changes all around him lingered. He was only just getting used to how things were becoming, and it seemed too much was changing too soon, while he remained the same. He hadn’t felt like all the things that made him wake up shaking sometimes were made better by that strange sound.

The morning seemed more grey than the newsprint that stained his fingers. As he stood under the warmest tap in the chilly tenement showers, ignoring the noise he could hear from some of the other residents of their cramped building, he tried not to think of the possibility of losing Noctis, or of never being able to do better for himself than he had already. 

Would there ever be anything more than newspapers and nightmares?


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis goes to meet with his mysterious benefactor, and finds himself standing before the seat of power.

**7:**

Ignis insisted that Noctis shower, comb his hair into some facsimile of a handsome style, and dress in the best clothes he’d brought from home. However, the part that made Noctis most upset was his first request. 

“You really want me to miss work? I could at least do the morning run.” He had hardly slept thinking about it, and his legs felt itchy. He wanted to move. He wanted to roam the city with Prompto for a long while first. 

Ignis, however, clicked his tongue to chide him.

“I’d sincerely prefer if you were clean and fresh for this friend we’re about to meet. We have to make a good impression.” Ignis didn’t look up from the business of pressing their slacks with a flat iron heated on the stovetop. “Ask Prompto to cover for you, or at least make excuses for you. He’ll understand, if you tell him it’s important.” Noctis glanced at Gladio to silently plead for help, but Gladio was trying to find out if any of his “nice” shirts still fit and pulling faces as the buttons pulled a little tight over his chest.

“I think my muscles got bigger.” He flexed, his pectoral muscles bulging and straining at the second buttons. 

Noctis scoffed. “Be careful, or your head will, too.” He grimaced at the clock, then sighed and peered out the door. Prompto was dressed for the work day, rocking on his heels as he waited, and Noctis stepped out, not quite caring he was still in his smalls (despite Ignis’ sharp hiss from the table).

“Morning, Prompto.”

“Good morning!” Prompto grinned, then seemed to notice what Noctis was (or wasn’t) wearing and let out a little laugh. “I think you might’a forgotten your pants, man.”

“No, Iggy’s trying to make ‘em look nice. I gotta go to some fancy meeting.” Noctis rolled his eyes, concealing the excitement bubbling low in his chest. “Remember that meeting I said I got? To try and help my family?”

“Oh, wow! Is that today?” Prompto’s jaw dropped, eyes wide, and Noctis suppressed a smirk. 

“Yeah. Uh, would you mind letting Mr. Cid and Ms. Aurum know I won’t be able to make it?”

“Yeah, for sure! You just won’t get paid, I guess, but I get that the meeting is super important.” Prompto nodded resolutely. “I got you covered. And, um.” He reached out, awkwardly putting his palm against Noctis’ chest. “Good luck.” 

Noctis didn’t stop himself from smiling that time, and he took Prompto’s hand. “Thanks.” He squeezed Prompto’s fingers, then let go. “I’ll tell you all about it tonight, okay?”

“Okay.” Prompto grinned and clutched at the fingers Noctis had squeezed, palm pressed to his chest. “I’ll see you.”

Noctis watched Prompto go, and resolved himself, too. He had to make the best of this meeting. He wanted to give Prompto a happier future in Lucis, whatever that future might be. He had to save his country if he was going to do that.

* * *

It felt so strange to arrive at the warehouse alone after a few weeks of going in with Noctis every day, and even Cindy looked surprised to see Prompto on his own. 

“Aw, where’s your shadow, sunshine?” She clicked her tongue as she passed Prompto his share of the newspapers.

“He’s got some shindig, said something about getting help for his family back home.” 

“Well, ain’t that the bee’s knees! I hope he gets it. He ain’t the only one in this city lookin’ to make things better for him and his, and he deserves it as much as anyone else.” Cindy put her hands on her hips as Prompto packed his satchel. However, she was answered by a loud scoff from above. 

“Don’t nobody _deserve_ nothin’, girl.” Cid marched down from his office with an envelope in hand. “It’s all about what ya earn, what ya fight for.”

“Well!” Cindy stomped a foot, looking just a little indignant at her grandfather’s rebuke. “It sure sounds like he’s fightin’ for it, havin’ meetin’s an’ doin’ what he can!”

“Yeah, yeah, but just ‘cause he does the bare minimum - ah, hell, you kids’ll figure it out.” Cid scoffed. “I got to run down to the telegram office. Just got a call from ol’ Wesk, says he’s got an urgent bit o’ propaganda for the evenin’ special edition.”

“Mr. Sophiar?” Prompto hoisted his satchel up his shoulder, twice as heavy as usual as he took on Noctis’ burden for the day. “You always talk about it like that. What do you have against the news?”

“It ain’t just news, boy.” Cid’s lip curled. “Think about it. We get telegrams from Lucis, Gralea, Duscae, Galahd, everywhere. Reporters all over the world wanna tell the stories. You think the news just springs up and appears on paper? Someone’s gotta write it.” He marched towards Prompto. “And mark my words, the news we get changes dependin’ on who’s writin’ it. A big victory in Gralea is an inhumane massacre when you tell it in Galahd.” He put his hands on his hips. “Most of what they say is noise. You gotta look between the lines for the real truth, read it all. But that’s just not what we do, boy. We sell all the news that’s fit to print, and let folks read what there is to read and figure it out for themselves.”

“Oh.” Prompto scratched the back of his head. “Sure, but is all of it really propaganda?”

“Maybe it ain’t meant to be, but it sure is. If you don’t think of any of it as true, then you can pick out what’s true from what ain’t quite true.” Cid shrugged. “But if you wanna believe it, then just stick to shouting the headlines. Usually those are close enough. Cindy, the shop’s yours.” He hobbled out just then. 

Cindy gave a dainty little ‘hmph.’ “Crotchety old codger,” she murmured in his wake, then said aloud, “Never you mind him, Prompto, he’s just a fusspot who ain’t smiled since Solheim had blue skies.”

“Yeah?” Prompto managed a grin for her. “Well, I’ll cross my fingers the two of you get a little proper sunshine soon.”

“Aw, come on now, seein’ that smile of yours is just as good.” Cindy pinched his cheek, then gave it a little slap. “You get gone, now.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Prompto hurried out, knowing he had twice the ground to cover and only his own voice to call down the day. 

* * *

Noctis hadn’t worn a starched and pressed suit in months now, and he hadn’t missed them. At home, Ignis so often had to convince him into them, because Insomnia was too warm and humid for heavy slacks and jackets most of the time, and they were stiff and uncomfortable. Fortunately, Solheim had a more temperate climate, warm but less humid, and besides, Noctis really understood why he needed to wear a suit. In Insomnia, he was already the Crown Prince, he had nothing to prove, only to keep up appearances. In Solheim, he could not be the Prince. He had to prove he was worthy of attention, create the appearance of his station. Project what he wanted to be, instead of simply _being_ what he was. 

It was time to earn his title and his crown. 

Ignis led them to the designated intersection, which was still surprisingly busy. He felt like he stood out here, dressed to the nines in the middle of summer surrounded by people in linen work clothes or summer suits and dresses. However, Noctis tried not to focus on how much more comfortable the other pedestrians were and instead watched the big clock on the city hall tower turn the last minute to eleven, on the dot. 

Like a heat mirage, an older man in a formal black suit approached the intersection from within the throngs, checking a pocket watch. Noctis saw him immediately, his stern face distinct in the hazy summer air among the rest of the easygoing crowd, long silver hair in a long braid down his back bright against the heavy wool of his jacket. His gaze turned and fixed to Noctis, and he strode towards them, his hands folded at his waist, fingers interlaced.

"Corona, correct?" He spoke softly but with stark authority. Noctis glanced at Gladio and Ignis, who nodded.

"Noctis."

Noctis took that as a cue to step forward and bow formally. "I'm Corona, yes."

"Prince Noctis, then." The old man turned to Gladio first, studying him as Gladio warily stared him down. "I suppose these are your Shield and…" He trailed off, then motioned to Ignis.

"His Chamberlain," Ignis answered, then gave a bow. "I have been in Noctis' service since childhood. May I ask your name?"

The old man's mouth twitched in a fractional smile. "You may call me Gilgamesh. I've been instructed to escort you-"

"Wait." Gladio put himself between Noctis, Ignis, and Gilgamesh. "How do you know Dandelion?" Ignis and Noctis looked to him, then at Gilgamesh. Gilgamesh pursed his lips, but did not appear displeased.

"I was Cor Leonis' mentor, nigh thirty years ago now. It was a simpler time, when wars were fought by man rather than machine." He grimaced at his woven hands. "But it's not my place to say. I am a guardian of the Lucis Caelum line. My place is to bear witness and protect my charge from whatever should endanger him."

"The Lucis Caelum line?" Ignis repeated, very softly. "Then you're-"

"I am the personal bodyguard and attendant to the Lucian ambassador to Solheim, Somnus Lucis Caelum. Your cousin, Your Highness." Gilgamesh smiled wryly. "I have been instructed to take you to him to discuss the current state of Lucian affairs. He would have you speak to Lady Aera directly once he has had the opportunity to confer with you."

Noctis clenched his jaw for a moment. This was more than he could have asked for. "Your assistance would be appreciated," he said, in the trained diplomatic tones of a Prince. "We would gladly meet the ambassador."

"I had hoped so, yes." Gilgamesh gave that flinch of a smile again. "Gentlemen, if you will."

Gilgamesh turned and motioned for them to follow, and Noctis did, with Ignis close at hand and Gladio at the rear, still suspiciously watching Gilgamesh and everyone around them. Gilgamesh seemed to part the crowds like a hot knife, and led them directly to City Hall. 

City Hall bustled like the inside of a beehive, a constant low rumble of a thousand voices, people in ornate clothes going in ten thousand different directions. The ceilings were yellow glass and the pillars decorated with ribbons of gold leaf, and even the skylights were amber glass, flooding the room with a glow like sunset. 

Gilgamesh sliced through the throngs, the rest of the clerks and clerics parting like fish from a shark, directly to an unmarked elevator near the reception desk, used a small golden key to unlock a panel on the wall beside it, and pressed a button to summon the lift. The door opened, and Gilgamesh selected a floor. The ride up was silent, and Noctis, who hadn’t ridden in an elevator for nearly three months now, held his breath as the gears turned under his feet. 

The door slid open into a lobby lined with doors, where one man was waiting on a bench. Noctis spared him a glance - the gentleman wore a white linen suit, a silver silk cravat, and a white fedora, wavy red hair bound in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. 

The man in white glanced up from the book in his palm when the elevator doors opened, scanned the four of them with a leery glance, then grinned with all his teeth and snapped his book shut as he rolled to a stand.

“Gil! Good to see you, old chap! I see Somnus has guests?” He eyed Noctis with a strange, eager curiosity that made Noctis want to shrink back. He resisted and stood stark, even as Gilgamesh subtly shifted to place himself between the man in white and Noctis.

“Visiting dignitaries. If you’ll excuse us.” Gilgamesh subtly waved his fingers to beckon them, and marched down the hallway towards one of the doors. He gave a sharp rap, even as Noctis took one last look at the man in white, who still smirked at Noctis as the elevator doors shut. Gilgamesh took notice, and explained quietly, “The ambassador from Niflheim. Ardyn Izunia. You’ll meet him properly in due time, I imagine, but for the time being, Lord Lucis Caelum is waiting.” 

Just then, a clear, cool voice answered from within: “You may enter.”

Gilgamesh pushed the door wide, opening into an office with a large desk, piled high with correspondence and bound documents, lined with inkwells. The walls were obscured with bookshelves, mounted ornamental weapons with descriptive gold placards, paintings of a famous King and General on the battlefield leading the charge against a long-dead army, and one painting of his own father, King Regis, when he was a younger man. Prouder. Somnus looked very much like him, sitting forward in a leather-backed chair with his shoulders forward and his hands folded on his desk. He stood when Gilgamesh stepped aside and put Noctis in direct view of him, and he circled his desk, extending a hand as he approached.

“Prince Noctis, your Highness, it’s an honor.” He took Noctis’ hand and shook it, then stepped back and swept into a bow at the waist. “Thank you for agreeing to meet me.”

Noctis tried not to feel especially flattered, as Gilgamesh cleared his throat. “Your Royal Highness, it is my pleasure to introduce Lord Somnus Lucis Caelum.”

“And, if I may,” Ignis added, tones stiff and formal, “I would introduce His Royal Highness, Noctis Lucis Caelum.”

Somnus laughed, boyish and bright. “It’s strange; we’re cousins, and yet etiquette requires we at least begin as strangers.”

Noctis finally let a smile slip, but not his manners. “Yeah - er, aye. I’m afraid my father, His Majesty, never spoke of you. Forgive my asking, but how are we related?”

“Ah, I’m the grandson of your grandfather’s, King Mors’, younger sister, by her eldest daughter. I believe that makes us…” Somnus pursed his lips a moment, and out of the corner of his eye, spotted Gladio mouthing and tracing lines of a family tree in the air. “Ah, second cousins.”

Noctis nodded. “Second cousins, and yet you’re probably my closest living family outside of my own father.” His own father had no siblings, and his mother had passed away far too soon for Noctis to have any himself. 

Something twinkled in Somnus’ eye. “Indeed.” He motioned to his desk. “Please, Noctis - if I may call you Noctis?”

“Certainly.” 

“Noctis, if you and your retainers would kindly sit?” He gestured to the empty chairs in front of his desk, velvet-tufted, with sculpted mahogany arms. Noctis took the offered chair, Ignis took the other, and Somnus returned to the other side of his desk and his own chair. Gilgamesh stood at Somnus’ shoulder, and Gladio stood between Ignis and Noctis’ chairs. Noctis pressed his back into the cushion, then remembered himself and sat straight.

“Now,” Somnus began. “As much as I would adore an afternoon tea and a chance to catch up with my younger cousin, I fear the two of us have graver business: the fate of our homeland, and the reason you are in Solheim at all in the first place.”

“Aye,” Noctis agreed, and folded his hands on his knee. He’d rehearsed what he wanted to say with Ignis, and Ignis had even fed him a few points to raise: “Lucis is struggling for her life as a country. I was fortunate enough to escape capture or execution, and to my knowledge, my father is currently being sheltered and arranging to rally what remains of Lucis’ forces. However, our resources are limited and we are appealing to our allies for assistance.” He lifted one hand to gesticulate. “Lucis has always been friendly with Solheim, even without a formal alliance-”

“You don’t need to convince me, Noctis.” Somnus motioned, pushing his palm downwards as if to urge him to ease up. Noctis tried not to clench his jaw shut. “I would love to send Lucis any aid Solheim can offer.” He smiled and sat back, lacing his fingers again. “It’s Lady Aera who must be convinced.” 

“I understand.” Noctis put his hands on his lap, trying to appear neutral. He didn’t understand, really: “Do you know why she is resisting calls to act?”

Somnus laughed through his nose. “Simply put, because she is not Lucian. No. Rather, it’s because she _is_ Solheim’s leader. Solheim stands unique in the world because of its history. The city’s fall more than a century ago and its slow, gradual rebuilding has been a grinding process that history has not looked kindly on, but that has resulted in success. Tell me, Noctis.” He leaned forward, fingers tented on his desk, and Noctis felt a frisson of tension run down his spine. “Do you know why Lady Aera is called Conservateur?” 

Noctis gripped the knees of his pant legs. “I don’t, sorry.”

“It’s not common knowledge.” Somnus lifted a hand in a shrug, still smiling. He said the word “common” like he was talking about a cockroach: condescending. “But, the short version is that, a few generations back, when Solheim fell and its entire royal family died out, those who remained in power wanted to restore Solheim to its prior greatness. Rather than a new royal, those left in charge instead wanted a Conservateur, someone who would preserve the city and strive to raise it back to its former glory. They did not merely seek a leader, but someone who would essentially lead them _backwards.”_ Somnus chuckled through his nose, and Noctis eyed Ignis. Ignis was expressionless, which told Noctis that Somnus was telling the truth, and he didn’t like it. “Aera’s family is old money, older than old, and they wanted the scion of the oldest family to lead them. Lady Aera accepted, and she tends to go along with her council. But you see, one thing that, supposedly, made Solheim great was its open borders and its general policy to remain a partner and friend to every other nation. It’s the one time she opened her mouth to say what she wanted, and the council has argued against it every step of the way.” Noctis furrowed his brow - he probably owed her some gratitude for that.

“So, as a result of her policy, Lady Aera has made it a general rule to avoid conflict with any nation in order to welcome the rest of the world.” He sat back. “This is why you were able to escape to Solheim, after all. Any ally would have rolled out the red carpet to welcome the exiled Prince, making your position very public and intensifying the attention of your enemy on them, or even if they hadn’t you ran the risk of being detected by Niflheim searches of passenger ships. Lady Aera doesn’t allow foreign military on boats bound for Solheim. However, this same policy has allowed migrants and refugees from all nations, including Gralea and the Empire itself, to make Solheim home.” Somnus lifted his fingers to his mouth. “She fears that taking Lucis’ side in the conflict could cause conflict to rise in the city, if Niflheim refugees or Gralean immigrants still hold loyalty or love for their homeland.”

Noctis rolled his shoulders to keep himself from stiffening. “So what has she been saying?”

“She’s remaining neutral. She expresses sympathy for the displaced Lucians and the rumored atrocities being committed by Gralea as the Imperials establish themselves in Lucis, though I have implored her to send aid and take action to keep Solheim from losing Lucis as an independent trading partner, if nothing else. After all, if Niflheim controls Lucis, their bargaining power doubles.” Somnus held his hands up like a scale. “However, the Ambassador from Niflheim promises that any aid to Lucis will be seen as a slight against Gralea, and will open the doors for aggression from the Empire.”

Noctis grimaced. “So, because neither action will actively benefit her, she’s not acting.”

“Precisely. Spoken like a young king, Prince Noctis.” Somnis smiled and leaned forward again. “However, in the same vein, even you know a leader cannot lead by standing still.” 

Noctis found himself glancing at Ignis. Hadn’t Ignis said just the same once? “You’re not wrong,” Noctis said to Somnus, facing him again. “What do you think will change her mind?”

“Frankly, my dear Prince, you.” Somnus sat back. “An appeal from the young prince himself? She’s a soft, kind woman, and hearing from you personally just may tip the scales.” 

Noctis pulled a face, but schooled his features fast enough. “She’s the sovereign authority here. I had been hoping for a chance to appeal to her directly.”

“You seemed rehearsed.” Somnus smiled wryly. “Very well then.” He stood and turned to a small tube on the wall with a covered slot, then tapped a button. “I’ll inform her that I’d like a meeting, I don’t believe she had any specific business on her schedule rather than more of the usual.” 

A sucking noise echoed through the room, and Noctis saw a tiny gold cartridge zip down into the tube. Somnus pulled it out, then took pen and paper to compose a short message, tucked it back into the cartridge, then put the cartridge back into the tube and shut the slot. The cartridge shot back up through the tube, and Somnis returned his attention to Noctis. 

“All I ask is that you be genuine with Milady. Tell her the plight of your people, what Niflheim has done to wrong them.” His eyes gleamed. “Indeed, it seems that Niflheim has become more aggressive with her of their own accord, hoping to tip her to their side. Belligerent, even. I think a genuine plea for sympathy from your lips may speak to her much louder than their numerous demands and missives.”

Noctis grimaced, but nodded. He could still smell the scorching flames as Insomnia burned when Ignis and Gladio were hurrying him away. He’d tried not to look too closely at the photographs in the newspaper of the dead lining the streets, of thousands clamoring at a gate the Niffs had put up to contain his people trying to protest their capture, all the headlines of Niflheim pushing further and further through Lucis and taking their allies. 

“Honesty is all I can offer.”

“Very well then.” Just then, the cartridge shot back into the room and arrived behind Somnus’ desk, and Somnus retrieved it to read the message. “Ah, Milady summons us immediately. Gentlemen, please.”

He took a jaunty bowler hat off of a rack behind his desk and popped it on his head, smoothed his vest and tie, and took up a walking stick that he didn’t seem to need. Gilgamesh had crossed the room to open and hold the door as Ignis and Noctis stood, and he nodded sharply at them as they all passed and followed Somnus to the elevator.

Somnus had his own elevator key, and he pressed the highest floor on the lift panel. Noctis braced himself as they ascended, unsure of knowing what he would face but knowing that his fate would turn on the next few minutes. 

There was no going back, no second chances. Noctis had to get this right. He could only hope Lady Aera was as gentle as he’d been told. 

The elevator doors opened, but instead of another lobby, they entered the office immediately. The room was lined with overstuffed bookshelves, many with pages of handwritten text sticking out here and there where they’d been tucked between dense tomes. Lady Aera’s desk was carved mahogany, large and ostentatious, likely older than Somnus and Noctis put together and then some, but the surface was completely covered with papers and letters, with a space cleared for a microphone that was likely wired to the entire city. Behind her, Noctis could see the city through a window that covered the entire wall with translucent glass, but for a black bar that covered a strip of the glass - the clock face, Noctis realized, they were looking out of the bottom of the clock face. 

Lady Aera herself was seated beside the desk, but she hurried to her feet as the doors opened and circled around to greet them. She was petite, fair-haired and blue-eyed, she wore a white shift dress decorated with a golden sash, her hair held back from her face with a golden and blue headband; she was delicate-looking, like a porcelain plate. From Noctis’ guess, she wasn’t much older than him, but she carried herself like she was, exhaustion in her posture but confidence in her stride and expression. With all the grace of any queen, she bowed low as Noctis stepped out of the elevator, genuflecting with her hands back.

“Your Royal Highness, it is an honor to meet you. I am Lady Aera, sovereign of Solheim. Forgive me for not meeting you earlier, as I did not know my city hosted royalty, but I can understand your need for discretion in these trying times.” She rose, hands folded before her. “I belatedly welcome to you Solheim.”

“Well met, Milady.” Noctis bowed at the waist in return, hand across his breast. “I appreciate you meeting with me.”

“No, no! I appreciate you coming. I only apologize that it took so long for me to learn of your presence and that you wished to meet me.” Aera turned to Somnus and bowed again, though it was barely a bob of the head. “Somnus, thank you for finding him.”

“As I told you, Milady, what remains of Lucis’ leadership has been making efforts to reach out to me.” Somnus shrugged but doffed the hat he’d put on and put it to his breast. “Only recently did my contact divulge that Prince Noctis was hiding in the city. I had to implore them to have him meet me.”

Noctis restrained a frown. Had there been a reason Cor Leonis had resisted passing him over to Somnus? 

The thought, meanwhile, was interrupted by Lady Aera: “Whoever contacted you, please send my gratitude.” She returned her focus to Noctis. “Your Highness, has Solheim treated you kindly?”

“Yes, Milady.” Noctis knew that it wasn’t a real question, but despite his humble circumstances, it wasn’t a lie. “I’ve been laying low, so to speak, and living among the people. It’s been enlightening to see how the lay people live.”

“You mean you’ve been living among the working class?” Aera’s eyebrows rose. “Please, Highness, you must know that is untenable. I’ll have to make arrangements for you and your retinue to live somewhere safer, more secure.” She returned to her desk. “Please, please come in. We have much to discuss.” 

Noctis frowned and glanced to Ignis, and he quickly shook his head. This was a conversation for later, Noctis understood without words - after all, how could he tell her that he didn’t want to live away from his new friend? He didn’t know what unspoken rule of protocol that would violate, but this meeting was much bigger than himself. 

“Thank you, Milady.” Noctis followed and stood in front of her desk. “I neglected to introduce my retinue. These are Ignis Scientia, my chamberlain and advisor-”

“At Noctis’ side since the both of us were boys,” Ignis added with a wry smile. Aera smiled brightly in return.

“You are still boys to me, you know.” Noctis flushed faintly at the motherly tease in her voice, eyes gleaming as she bowed her head to Ignis. Then, she faced Gladio. “And I imagine this is Lord Amicitia’s eldest son, your future Shield?”

“I see you’re familiar with our traditions,” Gladio chuckled heartily, then bowed and held a hand out. Aera put her hand in his and he kissed her knuckles. “Gladiolus Amicitia. It’s an honor, Milady.”

“The pleasure is mine. Please, gentlemen.” She folded her hands on her knees and looked from eye to eye as all of her visitors stood circled around her desk. “Tell me, Prince Noctis, how fares your father?”

“At last communication, alive but not well.” He tried not to think on that too hard. “It’s been difficult to say much, for fear of our communication being intercepted, but supposedly he was injured when he fled the Crown City, and he…” Noctis had to stop and compose himself, he could feel a wobble creeping into his voice. “He’s worried for me. I’m his only son, after all, and we’ve never been this far apart before. He’s always traveled with me before, when he’s traveled, and I’ve never gone more than a day or two without seeing him. Maybe that makes me sound spoiled, but even though his duties as king kept him busy, he always did what he could to be a good father to me. And I know he loves our people, and he feels powerless to help them as things stand.” He balled his fists at his side. “He worries for his people as he does for me, I imagine.”

“I see.” Lady Aera’s brow was knit up with worry. “I imagine you have seen and heard as much as I have.”

“I don’t know if the news coming from home could be anywhere as horrible as the reality on the ground.” Noctis stepped close to her desk, and saw Somnus eyeing him warily. “Milady, my people are dying at the hands of Niflheim. We are being crushed. We are running out of resources with which to fight back, and I fear that the battle may be lost without aid. Lucis has been calling on our allies, but the machine of the Empire doesn’t exhaust.”

Aera sighed deeply, sitting back in her chair. “I am familiar with how the Empire operates.” She glanced over to Somnus, who steeled himself.

“Milady, I imagine there is little I can tell you that Prince Noctis himself could not tell you from experience, from his own heart.”

“You must believe me, Milady, I come to you on behalf of my people.” Noctis put his hand over his heart, thinking again with horror of the fall of Insomnia. “Niflheim - the Imperials - have violated my people and are destroying my homeland. I understand that you want to keep Solheim neutral, but we need help. Plus, I -” The sentiment rushed to his mouth almost unbidden. “I’ve made friends here. There are so many good people here, and I can’t help but worry that when Niflheim is done chewing up Lucis and all of its neighbors, there will be nothing to stop them from coming for Solheim. Solheim may have been kept safe by the ocean, but the Empire came by air this time, and if Lucis and our allies fall, there will be nobody to come to Solheim’s aid.”

Aera winced and laced her fingers on her desk. “Prince Noctis, your argument tugs my heartstrings, but I will have to take many things into account before I act. Believe me when I say I want nothing more than for Lucis to survive, and for you and your father to be reunited. For now, however, I can only commit to helping you. And-” Her voice broke, but she spoke with conviction. “I will do what I can for Lucis. I will arrange for aid.” 

Noctis’ heart dropped through his chest to the floor. Was it real? Could this be real?

Aera did not answer his unspoken question, but instead wrote a note on a piece of paper. “Once I assess what Solheim can offer, I will contact you. I will ask Lord Somnus and Master Gilgamesh to act as intermediaries for the time being and make arrangements for a more secure residence.” She turned her gaze to Noctis, intent and sincere. “I pray you will be safe where you have been living for a few days more.”

“I’ve got him, Milady.” Gladio gave a rakish, confident smile. “I’ve kept His Highness safe here this long, a little longer won’t do any harm.”

Aera returned his smile, polite and muted, as she continued to note things down. “I appreciate your authority on the matter, Master Gladiolus. Where have you been staying?”

Ignis answered fastest: “The tenement building on 25th, between Wise and Bold.”

Aera stopped writing all at once, eyes going wide as she looked between Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio again. “Oh,” she said softly. “I - my apologies, your Highness. Please, believe me, reforming the tenements has been one of my foremost efforts-”

“No, it’s-” Noctis tried to work up a defense, but Ignis swiftly interrupted:

“See that you do.” He smiled diplomatically. “We sought immediate safety and shelter rather than comfort on limited means, but given the cost of property in Solheim, we ended up unable to find preferable lodgings.” He kept his hands folded and head lowered with respect, but the true meaning of his words curled through his timbre like a cat through reeds. “We took no offense; after all, it was our goal to blend in among your citizens. Many of your citizens are not so fortunate as us as to have an alternative offered.” 

Aera bowed her head. “You are not incorrect; it’s a problem that I’ve struggled to remedy, but rest assured I am trying.”

Noctis couldn’t help but look around at the piles of paperwork, handwritten letters and requests, missives piled up higher than her head. Somnus had mentioned a council, but though he hadn’t met them, he wondered why none of this was on their plates. 

“I believe in you, Lady Aera.” He stood and extended a hand to her. “Thank you for hearing my cause.”

Aera put her hand in his, then clasped the other around it and stood to face him, one sovereign to another. “It’s been a pleasure, Your Highness. I hope we have a chance to speak again soon.”

“Likewise,” Noctis concurred, keeping the buoyant hope from his voice in an effort to maintain decorum. 

“Lady Aera,” Somnus said smoothly, sliding back into the conversation like a shadow shifting positions with the angle of the sun, “I would have a word further with you. Master Gilgamesh can escort his Highness - if that’s alright with you, Noctis.”

“Ye- aye, of course.” Noctis bowed briefly and let Gilgamesh go ahead to summon the elevator. Gladio and Ignis each bowed to Aera before turning to depart, and when the elevator doors shut, Noctis finally felt like he could exhale.

He had nearly forgotten what it was like to be a dignitary, a diplomat, a representative of his people. Even when he’d only been at his father’s elbow listening, pretending to laugh at jokes from ambassadors, bowing when he had to, leaving when it was politely suggested he do so, it had always felt constricting, like the buttons on his suit were pulled too tight. It was a heavy weight. 

Aera’s approval, however, made him feel assured that he just might be able to throw it off and celebrate. He’d done what he could, and Aera had listened. He may have just saved Lucis.

* * *

“It’s worse than you believed, isn’t it?” Somnus seated himself on the edge of Aera’s desk. “All of Izunia’s frippery and mollifications can’t outweigh the words of an honest young man motivated only to save his people. I’ve tried to convince you for months, Milady-”

“Lord Somnus,” Aera, her hands folded tightly on her knee, kept her voice steady and firm, “your pleas have borne out. I believe Prince Noctis, you need not twist my arm further.”

“Mustn’t I?” Somnus crossed his arms tight across his chest. “You have hesitated so long, how can I trust-”

“Somnus, I will send Lucis aid.” She sighed and rubbed her brow. “Money, weapons, food and supplies. Perhaps even members of the Solar Army to provide support and protect the citizens of Lucis. I don’t know what more you want of me-”

“You are forgetting your own place, Milady.” Somnus drummed his fingers on her desk. “We must protect Solheim, too. Izunia’s a subtle knife, he hasn’t tipped his hand, and I fear what will happen if you fail to act to protect Solheim.” He craned forwards, and Aera sat back, exhaling.

“I fear your suggested methods go too far.” Aera shook her head. 

“You will lose the confidence of the council and what love your people have for you if the Gralean element in Solheim runs roughshod over the citizens.” Somnus spoke a little softer. “You know that any Imperialists in the city will cause chaos when it becomes clear what you have decided to do.” 

“Even so, how can we be sure that no innocents will be harmed?” Aera covered her brow. Somnus sat back, hands lifted in a shrug.

“I fear we can’t, but it’s a risk you must take. It’s the best option.” He glanced out the window, across the lay of the city. The sun had begun to sink, making the golden skies go orange and grey and darkness beginning to swallow the edges. “In a city this crowded with Lucians and Niffs, if you pick a side between them, you have to crush the other."


	8. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis and Prompto celebrate Noctis' success, and find the emotions that come with it are more complicated than either of them expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for sexual content in this chapter.

**8:**

It was real. It was happening. Noctis had actually spoken to a sovereign of another country, virtually on his own, and he’d come out with a promise that Lucis would get help.

Noctis wanted to sing, he wanted to scream, he wanted to jump for joy and shout victory down every road and byway until the entire city knew he had been victorious, but all he could do was try not to shake as Gilgamesh walked them back to the corner where they’d met, his fingers trembling even as he balled them into fists at his sides. He was sure both Ignis and Gladio could see his excitement, and when they finally parted ways from Gilgamesh with a bow and a handshake, Ignis tapped Noctis on the shoulder.

“You can let it out.”

Noctis’ face split into a grin, so wide it hurt, and covered his face with his palms. “We did it,” he whispered, and Gladio laughed and slung an arm around his shoulder. 

“That’s right, Highness. Your old man would be so damn proud of you.”

“For the moment,” Ignis added, “Allow me to say _I’m_ proud of you. I’m extraordinarily proud of you, Noctis. You spoke your heart and mind and made yourself heard. With any luck, Solheim’s aid truly will turn the tide.”

“We’ll be able to go home,” Noctis whispered, grinning. “Maybe - you think she could get Dad out, and bring him here?”

“I dunno about that.” Gladio guided Noctis back towards their street. “His Majesty will likely want to be as far ahead of saving his own kingdom as you.” He gave Noctis’ shoulders a rattle, shaking him all around. “He’ll probably want you at his side, as soon as it’s safe for you.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Noctis glanced towards the sunset sky. “Should I send a telegram to Cor, let him know how it went?”

“The post office will likely be closed by now.” Ignis turned back towards the clock on the tower. Noctis wondered if, if he squinted enough, he might still see Aera at her desk behind the clock face. “It can wait until morning. Perhaps Milady will send word with details of her aid offer by morning.”

“Yeah.” Noctis tossed his head back. “Yeah, maybe we’ll hear more in the morning.”

“You know what can’t wait ‘til morning?” Gladio nudged Noctis’ arm. “A little celebration. Come on, let’s go get a drink and sing some songs and toast to Lucis.”

Ignis raised an eyebrow. “Is that wise?”

“Hey, we got her Ladyship on our side, and we ain’t the only Lucians in the city.” Gladio grinned broadly in the face of Ignis’ doubt. “It’s not like we’re going to go around shouting about what we just did and who we just talked to and what she said, we’re gonna get a few beers or whatever and just be happy for a few damn hours.” 

Noctis closed his eyes as the anticipation warmed his breast like a hot coal. Being happy sounded so nice. 

“Can I - can I invite Prompto to come with?” He felt more than saw Ignis and Gladio turn to him, but the skepticism was plain on their faces. “I won’t tell him what happened or anything, but I wanna see him and celebrate with him.”

“Noct,” Ignis said softly, “you do know-”

“Yeah.” Gladio cut Ignis off, loud and rough, and clapped his hand on Noctis’ back again. “Yeah, let’s invite your little buddy out.” 

Noctis grinned. He tried not to notice how Ignis’ eyes shuttered, gaze low, and the significant look Gladio gave him. 

It wasn’t like he was stupid. He just didn’t want to think about how going home meant leaving Prompto behind. Gods, if Aera made good on her word and gave them another place to live, one with security, staff to bring in food and take care of him like a visiting foreign dignitary instead of a refugee, then that would likely be the end of his connection to Prompto. If he was being guarded as a prince again, he probably wouldn’t even be able to go out and buy a paper from him.

His steps slowed for a moment as this thought passed through him, and he bit his lip and took a breath, then shook it away.

He could worry about the future later. Tonight, he’d celebrate.

Noctis jogged up the steps to Prompto’s apartment. He could hear some sort of strange music through the door, like a poorly tuned or broken radio tuning into a station just out of range, but he knocked nonetheless. A moment later, Prompto poked his head out, blinking owlishly. Noctis grinned. 

“Evening.”

“Oh! Good evening to you too!” Prompto grinned and stepped out of the room, shutting the door tight on the noise. “Gosh, you look awful snazzy!”

“Snazzy?” Noctis repeated, chuckling. “I take it that means ‘well-dressed and handsome?’”

“It totally does!” Prompto cackled and clapped Noctis on the shoulder. “But hey, how’d it go? Did you talk to someone who can help your family? Are they gonna send help?”

Noctis swallowed, but nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I think we’re getting some help. I - uh - I wanted to celebrate.” His smile came on wobbly, straining at the corners of his mouth, but Prompto, mercifully, didn’t notice.

“Oh, that’s so great!” He smiled broadly, all sunshine and glee, like he really meant it. Noctis’ weak heart ached, as he wondered if Prompto would be smiling if he really knew what he meant.

He probably would. He’d probably mean it, too. He probably wouldn’t even look sad when someone came to bundle the three of them away to comfort and luxury, and not expect him to look back. 

“Come with me?” Noctis blurted, and Prompto cocked his head.

“What?”

“Will you. Uh. Come with me?” He held his hand out, heat touching his cheeks. “I’d love to have you with me to celebrate sending help home to my family.”

Prompto’s confused expression mellowed to his usual, easygoing cheer. “Of course! Nothing would make me happier! Let me just make certain it’s okay with the others.” Prompto ducked back inside, and Noctis could faintly hear the conversation through the door:

_“My friend, the one who delivers papers with me, wants to take me out to celebrate with him.”_

_“Hmph, and why should you go and have all the fun?”_

_“C’mon, please? I’ll try not to be out too late.”_

_“Fine, fine. Brainwashed and Braindead there are utterly lost in that horrible caterwauling out of the record player anyway - did Aranea say how long…”_

Prompto’s tromping footsteps covered up the rest of the conversation, and thirty seconds later, Prompto was hurrying out the door while babbling, “Just leave it on forever and they’ll stay quiet, bye!” He shut the door just as fast and hooked Noctis’ arm. “C’mon, buddy!”

Noctis didn’t resist Prompto carrying him off like a leaf down a gutter after a rainstorm, but glanced back. “Who were you asking?”

“My older brother.” Prompto kept his gaze forward. “Someone needs to watch the two younger ones, they’re not doing so well, and he hates when it’s his turn.” 

“Oh.” Noctis frowned. He had a lot more questions, but maybe there would be time to ask later. Maybe he could ask Lady Aera to help the sick children - they’d been sick for months, hadn’t they? For as long as Noctis had known Prompto, if not longer - it’d be good if someone could help them. Prompto deserved to be helped as much as he had.

Gladio and Ignis were waiting on the curb, Ignis still tense, but Gladio grinning. He extended a big hand to fluff Prompto’s hair. “Hey, blondie.”

“Prompto, a pleasure to see you, as always.” Ignis’ tension dissolved minutely as Prompto faced him with his usual big, bright smile.

“Yeah, congratulations on the good meeting! You’ll have to tell me what Lady Aera did - if you can, I mean.” He laughed sheepishly, and Gladio threw his arm around his shoulder.

“Don’t you worry, kiddo, you’ll hear all about it soon enough! But right now, let’s just all unwind. That City Hall place chews on my nerves, you know what I mean?”

“It is rather, er, stifling.” Ignis dusted his sleeves and fell in beside Prompto. “However, it’s nothing I wasn’t expecting.”

“All those people, all that talking,” Gladio went on.

“Important talking,” Ignis said.

“Guys,” Noctis intervened as Gladio’s lip curled. “Not tonight.” They stopped, checked for the streetcar, and crossed the street to the bar with the broken A in the signage. “Let’s just raise a toast.”

Aranea’s bar was close, or rather, intimate. Like a library, it was noisy but without the grinding buzz of thousands of voices talking in syncopation. There were men in work clothes and women in coveralls or skirts talking, drinking, and laughing, the rise and fall of voices like waves against the wood-paneled walls, undercut by the melody of an old piano concerto ringing out of a large radio above the bottles of spirits and liqueurs on the counter. Aranea herself, in her pinstriped black vest and thick apron, turned to the door when Noctis, Prompto, Ignis, and Gladio came in, and though she smiled for Noctis like a wolf smiled at a rabbit, her face changed when she saw Prompto. 

“Hey, short stuff, what brings you out?” She eyed Gladio. “And with one of my regulars, and - who are those two?”

Prompto rushed over to the bar, with Noctis close behind, as his face changed from eagerness to worry. “Noctis wanted me to celebrate with him. Loqi’s home to watch the others, and they’re just listening to the radio anyway!”

Aranea scoffed. “Loqi’s rotten to the kids. You know that.”

“Nea, please,” Prompto whispered, lacing his fingers. “They’ll be okay for a little bit, right? Just an hour or so, I promise I won’t stay too late.”

Aranea’s mouth was set low, frowning as she studied Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis each in turn. Ignis straightened his coat, and Gladio drew himself to his full height. Aranea snorted sharply, then looked back to Prompto. 

“Just a little bit.” She smirked, then gave his hair a vigorous ruffle. “Have fun, kiddo, you deserve it.”

Prompto keened with glee, then took a few coins out of his pocket. “Then, a pint of whatever you’ve got on tap for me and the guys!”

“Allow me.” Ignis stepped forward and added a few more coins to the pile. “I’ll take a sidecar. Gladio prefers stout. Noctis?”

“Beer’s fine.” 

Noctis actually only ever recalled drinking champagne at his father’s stuffy parties, and even then, only a sip. Ignis had warned him never to get drunk at events, for fear someone might wrangle an impossible or disadvantageous promise out of him then expect him to keep it. He might never have a chance to drink how he wanted ever again.

“Prompto?” Ignis glanced at him, and Prompto suddenly pinked to the ears.

“Um. I’m fine with beer, but-”

“Live a little,” Noctis encouraged him quietly. “Anything.”

Prompto bit his lip, cheeks going fully red, and he leaned closer to Aranea. “Mr. Cid gave me a sip of something he called cognac once. Do you make anything with that?”

“Sazerac.” Aranea winked. “Sweet and bitter, just like you. Coming up, boys.” She took out a few glasses. “You three celebrating something?”

“Got some good news,” Gladio answered first, nice and vague, but with a big grin. “We’re working on improving our situation, if you catch my drift, and we just might be moving on up in the world.”

“Well! That is something to celebrate!” In a blink, she had four glasses on the table, then poured out a fifth shaker with something golden and sour-smelling. “Cheers, boys! To a brighter dawn!” 

She lifted her glass, and Noctis met hers in a toast, with the other three not too far behind. Their glasses clanked together with a cheery noise and sloshing, and their voices all echoing: “Cheers!”

Noctis drank a celebratory sip of his beer, and promptly decided he didn’t like it. “I’m going to need something better to toast with,” he declared as he wiped the beer from his lips, and Gladio swiped the mug before he could even set it down on the bar. Aranea grinned again, all teeth and predation.

“I see we have a first-time drinker. Well, then, what do you think you’d like?”

Noctis screwed up his brow for a moment. “Something less… like that.”

Aranea laughed. “Let’s see what I can think up.” 

She mixed him a few drinks - a screwdriver, an old-fashioned, and a sunrise - and lined them up. “Your buddy in the specs gave me a nice chunk of change, so let’s let you experiment.” 

“Brother,” Ignis corrected quietly, and Aranea winked at him.

“Well, what a sweet big brother you are.” She then turned her attention to Gladio. “You’re all brothers, is that the story?”

“Yep.” Gladio smoothly slipped in, popping the ‘p’ as he leaned over the counter towards her. “I hear you take good care of your baby brother, too…”

Wherever he was taking that conversation got lost when Prompto hopped onto the stool next to Noctis. He still had most of his drink in his glass, but he peered into Noctis’. 

“Did ‘Nea give you something good?”

“I dunno, gonna have to find out.” Noctis lifted the screwdriver - he’d ask about the name when his bartender wasn’t quite so vicious - and sniffed it, then held it out to Prompto. “You wanna try ‘em with me?”

“Yeah, sure!” Prompto spun on the stool, beaming, and Noctis took the first sip. It mostly tasted like orange juice, but as he swallowed he felt a faint burn. Prompto watched with wonder nonetheless. “How’s that one?”

“Not quite right. For a ‘drink,’ it’s barely there.” He passed it to Prompto. “Here, try.”

“Thanks!” Prompto smiled, then put the cup to his lips, and Noctis felt something burn in him, lower than his throat. “Have you ever drank before? Like, back home?”

Noctis thought again of the stuffy parties at the Citadel. The champagne, the boring people in dense suits, conversations that Noctis only barely cared about, polite small-talk with the daughters of the noble class. He wondered how Prompto would like those parties. He probably wouldn’t, but he’d go and hang at Noctis’ side and make quiet jokes about the other attendees under his breath. Yeah, that’d be the ticket. 

“Only at my dad’s fancy dinner parties. They were boring, and it was always champagne.”

“I’ve never had champagne!” Prompto chuckled, then took a sip. 

Noctis watched his throat work for a moment, then glanced over to Ignis and Gladio. They seemed to have struck up a conversation with Aranea, and Noctis could see Gladio rolling up his sleeve and planting his elbow on the table for an arm-wrestling contest. Good, hopefully they’d let him just be for a little while. Prompto handed Noctis his drink back. 

“That one was pretty okay.”

“Hm.” Noctis looked to the next, an “old-fashioned.” Noctis wondered again about the name of it, then took a sip. Bitter as hell. “Champagne is… it’s for fancy occasions. Seemed like every occasion was fancy when my dad was doing it.” It had to be, after all. Dad would probably have been humiliated if he were found sipping whiskey in a common bar. He nudged the glass over to Prompto. “It was okay, but it was all I knew so I guess I wouldn’t have known better. Here.”

“Your dad’s someone important, huh?” Prompto wrinkled his brow up, passing the glass back and forth between his fingers instead of picking it up and taking a sip. “I guess… something really rough must’ve happened for him to need you to come get help here.”

“Yeah.” Noctis’ chin dropped. Would he ever be able to tell Prompto the truth? Or would Prompto just see him in a newspaper someday on his coronation day, or when he was killed by the Niffs?

“I’m glad you got it.” Prompto smiled, his gaze down on the glass, before he finally picked it up and took a sip. His nose wrinkled up, then he burst out laughing. “Wow, that one’s not for me!”

“I could’ve told you that, shortcake,” Aranea interrupted, then set a glass down in front of Prompto. “Here, this might be more your style. Vodka and soda, with simple syrup.”

“Thanks, ‘Nea!” Prompto beamed and took it into his hands as he passed the old-fashioned back to Noctis and Aranea returned to talking to Gladio and Ignis at the other end of the bar, then spun on his chair and faced him. “Hey. Um.” He cocked his head, all puppy-dog earnesty. “What was… what’s home like for you?”

“For me?” Noctis frowned, as Prompto’s eyes dropped.

“Yeah. Um. You said you were from Tenebrae, but Tenebrae was way different for me.” He kept smiling at the ground, still fidgeting, and Noctis wondered what he was thinking about. “I… I don’t want to go home. I just want to be as happy in Solheim as I can possibly be. I don’t know how that’s going to happen but…” He trailed off, then looked up at Noctis, big blue eyes soft and wet, and loaded with emotion Noctis couldn’t name. “Can you… can you tell me about your home?”

Maybe Prompto already knew that they couldn’t stay together like this forever. Noctis took another sip of the old-fashioned and swallowed. Bitter as hell. 

“It was… it was beautiful there. I was lucky.” He gripped his glass. “We lived in a nice area, and everyone I knew was nice. We’re still sort of at war, since, basically everyone is, so sometimes we had trouble getting things that we wanted, like clothes or certain kinds of food.”

“It’s kind of like that everywhere, isn’t it,” Prompto murmured, and his gaze dropped again. He tossed back a swig of his drink. “Yeah, um, we didn’t have a lot to eat where we were.”

Noctis’ heart panged. “Hey, uh-”

“You have a family? You, um, keep talking about your dad.” Prompto lifted his gaze again. “Was he… is he nice?” 

Noctis hesitated, trying to read Prompto’s face. All he got was innocent curiosity and maybe a hint of wistfulness for something he didn’t and would never have. “Nicest guy in the world.” Noctis bit his lip. “He was my only family. Mom died when I was too young to remember her.” Noctis didn’t notice Ignis shooting him an urgent look, but Prompto didn’t appear particularly surprised. “Dad was… he was a good listener. He was busy, but he did his best to make time for me.” 

He squeezed his eyes shut, thinking of the long hours he’d wait for his dad to come out of meetings just so he could come say ‘good night’ to him, of going to his father’s personal study to whisper about his troubles, of the days his father’s old war wounds flared up and left him hobbling, and they would hole up in his library and talk about the world and all the things Noctis would need to know. The days when the King would discreetly cancel his meetings and sneak out to the gardens to fish in a little pond he’d had the gardeners dig just for them. The days Noctis spent by himself, wishing he had any other friends his age to spend time with him, to see anyone other than Ignis, Gladio, his tutors or the Citadel staff. 

“You’d like him, I think. He’d like you, too.”

“You think so?” Prompto chuckled a little. “I dunno about that.”

“I like you, so he’d like you,” Noctis declared, then took another long gulp of his drink. It was bitter, yes, but something about the bitterness worked for him. “Dad tried to like everyone, as much as he could. You’re… you’re just nice, Prompto.”

“Huh. I dunno, I feel like most people… never mind.” He put his empty glass down on the counter. “I… I don’t remember my parents either. I think I was too young when… when we got separated. I don’t really know what happened to them.” He bit his lip, and the red around his eyes looked a little brighter. Noctis blinked twice, and tried to decide if it was the yellowish light in the bar or the alcohol, or something else. “I… I was alone, for a while. I was so lucky Aranea found me… You’re… you’re the first person who’s been… who…” He swallowed thickly. “I’m just so lucky I met you, Noct. I’m… I’m gonna miss you when you leave.”

Noctis extended an arm and laid it over Prompto’s shoulder. “It won’t be for a while longer,” he said, and prayed it wouldn’t be a lie. “I’ll be here with you until it’s safe to go home, and…” He gripped Prompto’s shoulder. “Come with me.”

“Huh?” Prompto craned his neck around, eyes wide.

“Come with me,” Noctis repeated. “When I go home. I’ll vouch for you. I’ll help you. You deserve so much better, Prompto, and-” His breath hitched. “Prompto, I want you to come with me. I know Solheim has been good for you, but if you can come home with me, I’ll make things so much better. Trust me, I’ll do whatever I have to.”

Noctis knew he lived a life of privilege, but it wasn’t just a badge he wore, it was an umbrella he could share. He could make Prompto a favorite, a personal guest of the court. He was the Prince, who was going to tell him he couldn’t?

“I like you, Prompto.” He reached over and took his hand. “I like home, but I like you so much more.”

“So what you’re saying is, you’re a brat who thinks he can get everything he wants.” Prompto smiled wryly, but he didn’t pull his hand from Noctis’. “I dunno, it sounds too good to be true. And… ‘Nea will miss me.”

“I won’t make you.” Noctis bit his lip and squeezed Prompto’s hand again. “But I want you to think about it.”

“Oh, Noct,” Prompto whispered, shaking his head. “You just don’t understand. I… I like you, so much, and I would want to come with you, but-”

“Don’t say no just yet,” Noctis urged him. “Please. Think about it first.” Then, he took up the last drink, the sunrise, and lifted it to Prompto’s lips. “You try this one first.”

Prompto, still wide-eyed and between amusement and curiosity, accepted the glass. He touched his lips to it, and Noctis watched his throat work. Prompto offered the glass back to Noctis, but Noctis put it down and leaned in to taste the alcohol still on his lips.

Prompto’s kiss in return was sweeter than any sunrise. 

Noctis lost himself kissing Prompto for a moment, but when he paused for breath, he whispered, “I can’t imagine anything at home being better than that.”

Prompto laughed, louder than he meant to. “Come on, you said you live in a fancy place and you’re a brat who gets whatever he wants at home!”

“But I want you, too,” Noctis chuckled, leaning into his mouth again, but before he could kiss him, there was a sharp tap on his shoulder, and Noctis realized Aranea had fixed him with a stare that could bore holes through his head.

“You kids, uh, wanna take this somewhere private?” She wagged an eyebrow at Prompto, who was suddenly inventing a new shade of tomato-juice red all over his cheeks. Noctis floundered for words as it hit him that he’d been snogging her brother right in front of her, but before he could stammer out an excuse, Prompto seized his hand.

“Yeah, gosh, wow!” Prompto laughed again, tighter now, timbre like a whistling kettle. “Gosh, uh, we should, uh-”

“Go,” Noctis murmured, then put a few coins on the counter without taking his eyes off of Prompto, his flushed face, his kiss-wet mouth, his honest eyes. “You’ll be missed. Let me walk you home.”

He slid off the barstool, keeping Prompto’s hand in his, and led Prompto out. They didn’t even look for streetcars or horses as they hurried across the street to the tenement.

It was still home for now.

* * *

Prompto had no idea what would happen when he let Noctis take him home, but he knew he had to make the most of it. After all, Noct didn’t say he was leaving yet, but it probably wouldn’t be long.

He was the Prince, after all. If Lady Aera was going to help him save Lucis, Noctis had to go back to the war and lead the charge, but Prompto couldn’t go back to war, he couldn’t fight again.

He would only have Noctis for so much longer. He had to enjoy it while it lasted.

 _Don’t worry about it,_ he told himself, like Aranea probably would. _The future’s pretty far away from here._

“Hey,” Noctis whispered against his ear as they exited the bar into the chilled night air. “Come home with me.”

“N-noct.”

“I just want to be with you,” Noctis confessed, alcohol making his breath sharp, enough to make Prompto’s head spin a little more as he kept his arm around Prompto’s back with his hand roving down his waist. “Just for a little while. Just for as long as we can be.”

Prompto nodded hard. He wanted to stay with Noctis too, for as long as he could. He stumbled along at Noctis’ side across the road, back home, to the place they shared.

They didn’t go home, however. Prompto knew better than that. If he took Noctis home the way Noctis’ wandering hands suggested he wanted to go, he’d wake his brothers up. Instead, he decided on a detour as they staggered up the steps in tandem.

“Shh, c’mere.” Prompto tugged at Noctis’ belt loops to beckon him to the door on the fifth landing, and Noctis clumsily followed as Prompto led them into the communal bath. This late at night, nobody was bathing because the water would come cold, and the only interruption might be someone in need of the necessary. Prompto led Noctis in, missing the light switch and leaving the room dim. He took him towards his favorite tap in the corner, but turned on the tap two heads over to cover up the noise.

“Prompto, what-”

“We’re alone here,” Prompto told him. “Just you and me.” 

Nobody else. Nothing else. Here, stripped of anything else that might be, Prompto could dream a little while. He could open himself to Noctis, and pretend that the moment could last forever.

His mind moved faster than his body would, heart racing as he backed himself into the corner. He doffed his hat easily, letting it fall to the cracking tile floor, then hesitated at the top button of his shirt. Noctis stepped out of his shoes and kicked them back, then stepped in close to Prompto. 

“Let me help, man.”

“Th-thanks.” 

Prompto shivered at Noctis’ fingers against his neck, but Noctis smiled so easily, eyes crinkled and gleaming like starlight in the dim room. He wasn’t cold anymore, but he trembled like he was as Noctis pushed his suspender straps off of his shoulders one at a time, then unbuttoned his shirt, his narrow fingers raking down the ridge of Prompto’s breastbone and the dip in the muscle above his navel. Chills ran up his spine, gooseflesh rippling down his arms, and he held his breath as he slid his sleeves down and away. 

Noctis stripped his fancy jacket, his silk vest, and his linen shirt with little care, dropping them to a puddle on the floor, then shucked his slacks and kicked them back. Prompto had frozen with his fingers on the belt, capturing the moment in his memory like a photograph. Noctis in nothing but his smallclothes - black silk shorts, fitted around the waist and loose down to his knees- shone in the moonlight, smooth, fair skin tanned where his sleeves and collar ended, muscles built from carrying papers on display but the tension of carrying his own heavy destiny temporarily forgotten. He extended a hand to Prompto, beatific, like a god descended from on high. Prompto forgot for a moment that they were in the washroom of their ramshackle tenement, and felt like he was in Heaven. Noctis was a savior angel, here to take him away from his subsistence and on to Glory.

If only for the night.

Prompto finally got brave enough to slide his trousers down, nudging them away from him with his foot, pigeontoed as he faced Noctis again. He hoped Noctis didn’t notice his old scars, his body made rough by the brutal training he tried not to think about anymore, and smiled shyly at Noctis as he slipped a thumb into the fasteners of his knickers and loosened them with a swipe of his thumb and a few crisp _pop!_ s, and shimmied the cotton down to his knees and off. His prick sprung loose, jutting up towards his belly, hard, hot, and poker-red. Prompto flushed, mortified at how easily his body reacted to a few affectionate touches, and tried to cover his cheeks with his palm over his face.

“I’m-”

“Don’t be.” Noctis grinned and stepped closer, resting a hand on Prompto’s shoulder then opening his own smalls, revealing a trail of fine, downy black hair to his hip bones, and beneath, his cock was turgid under the crescent of his forefinger and thumb as he pulled the silk away like a curtain. “I’m… uh, I’ve never been…”

“Me neither,” Prompto confessed with relief - it wasn’t just him, thank the stars. “I - um - how do we?”

“We can,” Noctis whispered, then, in answer, closed the gap between himself and Prompto, nearly chest to chest with him, then took Prompto’s erection in hand and brought it close to his. 

Prompto gasped as he felt Noctis’ member twitch at the contact, and Noctis sealed his mouth over Prompto’s in a hard kiss. He rutted their hips together, his cock rocking against Prompto’s and bumping into the space below his navel, and Prompto gasped again, this time into Noctis’ mouth, before wrapping an arm around Noctis’ back to hold himself in place, slipping a hand between them, and wrapping his fingers around both of their shafts.

“N-noct,” he moaned breathily as he stroked both of them together, and Noctis’ breath stuttered in his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing, before he tucked his chin into the crook of Prompto’s shoulder and sucked on his neck, fierce enough to bruise. Prompto let out a weak cry and pumped them both again, heart throbbing as intense pleasure wound up in his lower belly. Noctis kissed against his neck a few times, then slid his hand up through Prompto’s hair, tipped his head to the side, and claimed his mouth again. His long fingers twined with Prompto’s in a shared grip around their pricks, and they found a clumsy rhythm together, Noctis’ thumb brushing against Prompto’s slit as Prompto memorized the shape of him in his palm. 

Because this might be the only time.

Prompto’s wrist stuttered, and Noctis hissed. “Gentle.”

“S-sorry.” Prompto leaned his chin into Noctis’ shoulder, feeling the faint tremors in Noctis’ back as Noctis tried to keep them steady.

“It’s good - you feel good - so warm - Gh-” He strangled a small noise. “Prompto-”

Prompto strained to focus on his own pleasure as his mind spiraled away, lost and wandering through the darkness of the days before Aranea, when he had all but forgotten a happy life waking up in a warm room with people he knew, when all he knew was the armor of a soldier and the cold iron mask they forced him to wear, the grip of the gun in glaived hands, the Lucians who would kill him-

And then Noctis. The warmth of Noctis at his side, the joy at seeing his smile. Gone forever, like the sun vanished when he donned his armor. The thought of losing that would feel like being stripped of a layer of skin, or like having his mask forced back on, cold against his face.

His eyes were so hot as he pressed them into Noctis’ shoulder, openly weeping now, because this was it, the last hurrah, their first would be their last. There would probably be no more him and Noctis after tonight.

Because, after all, Noctis was a Prince, and Prompto was...

“Prompto?”

Prompto felt Noctis’ hand still, and looked up to see Noctis studying him, gazing through him in plain shock. “Did I - did it hurt? Did I hurt you?”

“N-no,” Prompto choked out around the lump in his throat, as Noctis, eyes wide, carded his fingers through his hair and smoothed it back from his eyes. “I was just… just thinking, haha.” He forced a laugh. “How l-lucky I am, that I met you. And how much I’m going to miss you.”

Noctis looked crestfallen, and he released Prompto’s softening erection to cup his cheek in his hand. “It’s not over,” he declared, low and sad, but with determination like a marching drum. “I’ll find a way to take you with me. I’m not leaving Solheim yet. If I can be happy, so can you.” 

“Noct,” Prompto whined in protest, _it’s impossible_ , he thought, but couldn’t say it. Noctis hushed him again, then wrapped his arms around him tight.

“You won’t have to miss me, because I won’t be gone.” He leaned back and brushed Prompto’s hair from his forehead to kiss the skin there, leaving a little circle of warmth in his wake. “We’ll have plenty of time to get things right.”

Prompto nodded, lacking the will to deny it and wanting to believe it could be true. He wanted nothing more.

“Let’s put our clothes back on,” Noctis murmured, and bent down to scoop up Prompto’s things. Prompto nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and pulled his smalls back on. 

The moment had come and gone, and Prompto had ruined it.

Maybe Noctis was right. Maybe this wasn’t the end. Prompto would believe it for as long as he could, because right now, it was the only hope he could cling to.

“Will you -” Noctis broke off, stuttering a little as he finished snapping his knickers back on, but he glanced shyly to Prompto. “Will you stay the night? We can probably both fit on my mat.”

Prompto bit his lip, but nodded. 

The two of them dressed just enough to be decent and crept back out of the bathroom, up the stairs to the sixth floor, and opened the door to Noctis’ tenement. The apartment was quiet but for the faint sounds of breathing; Ignis and Gladio had already returned, but were nothing but shapes in a bedroll and shadows in the streetlights cast over the dusty floor. They tiptoed in, undressing again, and Noctis put his day clothes in a milk crate in the corner, Prompto dropped his beside it, and he waited for Noctis to roll his coverlet back. Noctis wiggled into the bed first and scooted all the way to one side, leaving lots of room for Prompto. The offer was there, and Prompto hesitated for only a second, then stepped into the bed, curling in, and Noctis threw his arms tight around him.

His embrace felt like a promise, that Noctis would keep him here, that he still wanted him. The warmth sat heavy in his heart, but it was a comfortable weight.

Maybe it wouldn’t last, but until morning came, it was enough.

* * *

Prompto woke in Noctis’ arms, but not to the sunrise. It was instead to the vague sensation of a headache, a loud impact nearby, and the sound of marching boots rushing past the paper-thin walls. Prompto’s heart set off at a breakneck pace, hammering in his chest as he heard a struggle through the wall, from his own apartment.

Then, he heard more. Distant noises, too far away, yet so loud, and so familiar. Shouting in the streets, screaming, yelling, the tinkling of breaking glass.

Prompto jumped out of the bedroll and to his feet when he heard a muffled cry through the wall - one of the younger ones, he was sure - and hurried to yank his shirt back on, then rushed to the door - 

Just in time to see the Solheim soldiers, in their blue uniforms with Solheim’s emblem embroidered on the breast, and sand-filled body armor, wrestling Aranea out the door with her hands in cuffs.

“Let me go!” Aranea twisted against her captors, the straps of her nightgown slipping off her shoulder. The door to their tenement hung loose on one hinge, the other broken off, and Aranea tried to dig her heels in to keep from being dragged into the hall. “I’ve never done a damn thing wrong in my entire life, and you can’t prove it!”

“Apologies, ma’am,” one soldier growled, “but you’re being confined for your own safety, and for the public good.”

“What ‘public good’ could possibly come from arresting me?! Is it ‘cause I’m a Niff?!” Aranea got dragged a step forward, then twisted back, even as two soldiers wrested a screaming Verse out into the hall bundled and restrained in his blanket, and Aurel timidly followed, shaking from head to toe. “Boys, no!” She tried to reach for them, but that just gave the soldiers a chance to restrain her. Loqi was escorted out next, wearing a gag over his mouth that he was trying to scream through, purple in the face with fury.

Prompto realized he could hear more soldiers marching on the floors above and below them, his heart dropping through the floor and straight to the pits of Hell, but he froze and hid in the doorframe. He could feel Noctis at his back, and heard Ignis inhale sharply as Aranea was hauled past the door, still struggling. Her gaze flashed to Prompto for a split second, but she didn’t say a word, conveying everything with a single look:

_Stay safe._

Prompto’s heart jerked back into his chest only to kick it up into a higher gear, and he rushed back to throw his clothes back on. He couldn’t let them take Aranea or the others, not when the worst Loqi had ever done was be a grouch, not when Verse and Aurel were just starting to get better! 

Not when Aranea had been the first person to ever give him a glimmer of hope that he could have a life outside of the iron mask.

He finished pulling his suspenders on right as Noctis got his wits about him to ask: “What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know,” Prompto rasped, then jammed his hat down on his head, covering his hair and hiding the red rings around his eyes. “But I can’t let them take Aranea away!”


	9. 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chaos erupts in Solheim, and Prompto dashes into the street in search of his stolen family, only to find that the hell he ran from has finally caught up with him.

**9:**

“Prompto!” Noctis kept shouting at him as he bolted down the hallway. “What the hell?!”

“I don’t know!” Prompto repeated as he ran, stopping for only a second to tuck a few more strands of hair under his hat. He could hear it louder now, shouts echoing down the stairwell, crying and the droning of marching soldiers. “But they’re taking ‘Nea, I don’t know why, we’re not bad people! I have to stop them!” He ran before Noctis could speak again, hoping his fleet feet could keep pace with his panic attack. 

When he emerged from the tenement into the street, however, the panic kicked into overdrive.

The street was worse than a warzone. The windows of Aranea’s bar had been shattered, leaving only jags of glass in the frame and all of the neon letters broken. Paddy wagons lined the street, and the Solheim soldiers and police roved the roads and sidewalks, dragging people from buildings and loading them up. All of them were blond, fair, wide-eyed. Graleans. Niffs. 

The air was full of screaming and shouting as soldiers marched into buildings, forcing people out by pulling their hair or dragging them by their clothes. People had their limbs bound as the soldiers forced them into the street, onto the ground. A group of school-aged boys ran, throwing rocks at the soldiers chasing them and screaming in Gralean, and Prompto gasped as one of them tripped. The soldiers were on him like hawks on carrion, tearing at his clothes and beating him with their sticks until he stopped moving. 

Nowhere in the chaos did he see Aranea.

He cupped his hands around his mouth, and cried out as loud as he could: “NEA!” He ran down the road, looking into the wagons. “Nea, I’m looking for my sister! Nea! Nea!” 

Someone grabbed him by the back of the jacket and shoved him down. “Move it, kid!” Prompto twisted around and realized the person who shoved him wasn’t even a Solheim soldier. It was a butcher from the market, a Lucian man with a sneer. “Either help round the bastards up or get back inside!”

Prompto ran, as fast as he could, heart racing as he realized that there were more than just soldiers - it was Lucians and Galahdans, too, joining the charge into buildings, breaking the windows of Gralean businesses and busting doors in to root out the Graleans inside, and more and more exhausted, terrified people who looked too much like Prompto emerged. Children were crying as they were torn from their parents, some turned to fight back but were subdued, and Prompto’s ears were assaulted by a multitude of screams:

“We’ve done nothing wrong!”

“Niff scum!”

“I’m not a soldier anymore! I left!”

“You people killed my family, why should you get to live happily?!”

“Fuck you, we’re allowed to be here!”

“No more Niffs in my city!”

Prompto couldn’t listen, he felt like his ears were bleeding, but he bolted through the chaos, screaming Aranea’s name: “‘NEA, COME BACK! WHERE ARE YOU?!”

Someone seized him by the shoulder again, and Prompto tripped and toppled face first onto the ground. A Solheim soldier glared down at him. 

“You! Boy! Are you Niff, too?”

Prompto’s eyes went wide, and he tried to shake his head, but anxiety seized his throat and he couldn’t speak. More soldiers joined him, their hands on their nightsticks or pistols, and then Lucians, cold eyes glaring, harsh mouths sneering. Prompto tried to shrink down and cover his face, as the soldier demanded again: “Are you Niff?”

Prompto braced for whatever was about to come, to be seized, to be hit, but before whatever was coming came, someone else did.

“He’s from Tenebrae!”

The crowd parted as Ignis pushed his way through, face impassive yet clearly masking fury. He held his hand out - nearly jabbed it into Prompto’s chest - and helped pull Prompto back to his feet. “Let’s you and I get out of these fine gentlemens’ collective way.” He yanked Prompto off the main street, as Prompto desperately tried to muster up words.

_Thank you - I’m sorry - what the hell is going on?!_

Ignis got him out of the road, but then pulled him towards a church, one of the few quiet spots remaining. “Let’s chat before we continue to search for your sister.” He glanced back at Prompto, expression more neutral. “I only want to know the truth.” He stopped once they were fully out of view of the street, then took Prompto by the shoulders. “It never mattered to you where we came from; after all, I’ve a feeling you know we’re not from Tenebrae. However, I would like to know just who you and your siblings are.”

Prompto shakily blurted the first thing he could think of: “We’re not your enemies.” As the adrenaline of the panic shook its way out of him, making his fingers quiver. “Please, believe me, we’re not your enemies. I’d never hurt you, or Gladio, or N-noct.”

“I know.” Ignis loosened his grip on his shoulders. 

“We… we’re Graleans.” He sniffled. “We all ran away from the army.” He inhaled sharply, bowing his head. “They make all of us join. Every boy, at least. I d-don’t even remember my real parents.” He squeezed his eyes shut, as he recalled the last memory he had - his mother, her face a blank, but her voice screaming from the doorway as he was dragged from their tiny cottage and shoved into a caravan with fifty other boys his age. Then, the training began and he lost ten years. “I r-ran. Loqi was disgraced and defected. Aurel was abandoned in training ‘cause he was too weak, they were gonna let him starve to death on his cot. ‘Nea stole Verse from a training regiment that got sent out too soon, they were all gonna die.” Ignis hushed him, and Prompto realized how loud he’d gotten with his throat stung and panged. “Iggy, I-”

“You were all forced to join,” Ignis repeated. “As… as boys.”

“I was six when they took me.” He swallowed hard. “I never wanted it, but I didn’t have a choice. And they just drill you and drill you, and if you don’t do well they starve you, and they blast their propaganda into your brain - I don’t even know what they did to Verse and Aurel, but some of the new training stuff scrambled their brains!” He heaved, shaking his head. “Gralea doesn’t care about its people. All they want are more soldiers, so they force us to listen to endless speeches about how great we are and force us to follow orders and beat us when we don’t listen!” He began to tug at his hair. “But I wasn’t even a good soldier! I couldn’t kill people, not when I knew they were all just _people_ , and then some Lucian general nearly shot me but he spared my life when they were shooting every other soldier in my regiment so I ran and I ran and I-”

Ignis seized Prompto and pulled him into a hug. “Hush, now. That’s enough.” Prompto’s heart skipped a beat as Ignis held him, but he realized Ignis’ entire frame was shaking. “It’s appalling to think that you’ve all been through that, and so horribly unfair - please believe me when I say I am not upset with you, but _for_ you.” He released Prompto, but took both of his hands. “May I tell you what I know?” Prompto nodded, and Ignis sighed, then glanced towards the street. Prompto could see yellow firelight and torches, could still faintly hear shouting, but Ignis faced him again, holding his gaze. “We turned on the radios after you left. Apparently there’s been an order given to take any and all Graleans in Solheim into, and I quote, ‘protective custody.’ There was no particular reason given, but I have reason to believe that Lady Aera has decided to ally with Lucis in their war with the Niflheim Empire, and therefore elected to suppress possible sedition and unrest by…”

“By getting the Niffs out of her city,” Prompto mumbled. “Ignis, you gotta believe me, if any Graleans are here, it’s ‘cause they ran away, and they probably ran away ‘cause they hate what the Imperials are doing.”

“I’m more than aware.” Ignis sighed, shaking his head, but tugged Prompto’s sleeve. “I fear it is likely too late to do anything for Miss Aranea. Even if you were to locate her, I doubt you will be able to free her, and seeking her out will more than likely put your own life at risk. Tell Noctis what you told me. We will do everything in our power to help.”

“Because…” Prompto swallowed hard, emotion making his tongue too thick in his throat. “Because he’s the Prince of Lucis. He’s the one that asked Lady Aera to ally with Lucis in the first place, isn’t he?”

Ignis pursed his lips for a moment. “Noctis never asked for this,” he finally said. “However, I imagine that once he understands the weight of what Lady Aera has decided to do, he will endeavor to change it. Noctis will come to your aid.”

“Okay.” Prompto sighed, but just as Ignis turned to lead him back out onto the street, the lights from the main road were blocked by shadow stretching across the alleyway ground.

A man Prompto didn’t recognize blocked their path. He had blood-red hair, wavy and disheveled from the chase, he wore a wide-brimmed hat and a leather greatcoat, and he had a smirk like a rabid coyote approaching a dying rabbit. 

“Ah, I see you’ve found one of them.” Ignis immediately put himself between Prompto and the man, faintly frowning, but the man approached. “Milady’s orders demand that all Gralean nationals or those with Gralean heritage be surrendered to the authorities. I believe the boy behind you is Gralean.”

“And what proof have you?” Ignis’ spine stiffened. “What proof do you have that any of the men or women that have been arrested are Gralean? My hair is fair in the right light, will you arrest me, too?” He stood tall. “I’m a Lucian myself, and I do not see any good that can come of forcing the Graleans into some sort of imprisonment!”

“Oh?” The man sauntered towards him, then smirked. “Why, yes, I know you. You’re the young man who escorted the Prince to see Milady earlier.” Ignis’ brow furrowed, and the man glanced around him to Prompto. “And this boy?”

Prompto felt the man’s eyes, amber like a flame, land on him, and fear seized him like a fist around his neck. He turned and bolted, running as fast as his legs would carry him deeper into the alley, but he halted when he heard a scuffle behind him and about-faced to see Ignis grappling with the man. Ignis looked over his shoulder, frantic.

“Run, Prompto!” 

Ignis waved Prompto off, but the moment he turned from the man in the hat, the man in the hat threw something into Ignis’ eyes. Ignis yelped in pain and grasped at his face, and the man took out a stick and beat Ignis across the head. Ignis tried to put up his hands, to no avail, and the man savaged him with a flurry of blows. 

Prompto froze, terrified, knees buckling from under him, and flashes of his training hit him, of the superiors striking other boys his age when they failed to hit a target, hitting them with that same kind of baton when they couldn’t keep pace in marches, guards all descending on a boy who talked back and beating him until he stopped moving, and Prompto _couldn’t breathe_.

Ignis had gone still at the mouth of the alleyway, and just as the man looked up, Prompto ducked into a crate in the alleyway and huddled tight, wishing he had the strength to do anything more. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath until the shadow of the man in the greatcoat faded. Prompto tumbled out the moment he was certain he was alone and ran to where Ignis lay.

Ignis was unconscious, his face slack and limbs limp. His head was bruised, he looked sunken-in in places, and worse, there was a streak of irritation blazing red across his eyes, and they were swollen shut. 

“I’m so sorry,” Prompto squeaked, and gathered Ignis’ arm over his shoulder. He pulled his hat down over his hair, then hoisted Ignis up and dragged him out onto the street. 

The chaos had quieted, but though there were still people on the street, Prompto couldn’t bear to pay attention to any of them. All he could hear was Ignis’ labored breathing, and his own feet dragging under a weight like nothing he’d ever had to bear before.

He reached their tenement building, the doors hung loose on their hinges, and maneuvered Ignis through. Then, he reached the stairwell, legs shaking, and silently numbered the steps in his memory. He lost count around the fourth floor, and grimaced.

Ignis rasped something unintelligible against his chest. He hadn’t opened his eyes yet. 

Prompto began to walk up the stairs, pulling Ignis up with every pendulous step.

The lights were off in the hall, but Prompto could see the lights shining out under Noctis’ door. Sweat rolled down his back, exhaustion from carrying a man a little larger than him all the way as far as he had settling in his bones and threatening to push him to the floor. Still, he owed it to Ignis to get him home. He still remembered the night Aranea had scraped his wearied body off of some anonymous field in the Lucian countryside and whisked him away to start a new life in a city where he thought he might be accepted. He had to get Ignis back to his own family.

He reached the door and knocked. Gladio threw the door wide a second later, with a booming cry of, “You find him, Iggy?!”

Prompto stared up at him, speechless as Gladio’s eyes went wide, until Gladio jerked into motion again. He took Ignis off of Prompto’s shoulders and hustled into the room. Noctis had been sitting beside the radio and lifted his head when Prompto had come in, and Prompto saw horror fill his face at the sight of Ignis, bruised and bloodied, and he rushed right past Prompto to where Gladio laid Ignis down.

“Iggy? Hey, can you hear me?” Gladio shook Ignis, then flapped a hand. “Get some water and a rag, there’s something in his wounds!”

Prompto pivoted to the sink to get the rag and a basin, but Noctis grabbed him by the collar. “What the hell happened?!”

Prompto’s heart stopped at the anger in Noctis’ face, and Noctis gave him a shake. Prompto felt his lungs close up, as Noctis, distraught and despondent, demanded, “What happened? Did the Niffs do this?”

“I-” Prompto inhaled sharply. “I-”

“They said, on the radio, they were rounding up all the Niffs to keep Solheim safe. Ignis said he was worried they’d think you were Niff like they thought your sister and brothers are, but-”

“Noct, don’t kid yourself,” Gladio growled, “they look like Niffs because they probably are.” He glared at Prompto. “Did your _people_ do this?!”

“N-no! I-”

“Is it true?” Noctis tugged on Prompto’s sleeve, anger edging out the worry in his face and voice. “Are you a Niff?”

Prompto’s knees were shaking again, he felt like his bones were about to melt and seep out onto the floor, but he tried to remember what Ignis had told him, and Noctis’ reassurances from earlier that very night.

_“Noctis will come to your aid.”_

_“Trust me, I’ll do whatever I have to.”_

“I’m… Niff. I’m a soldier who defected.” Prompto cringed his eyes shut as Noctis let go of his shoulder and backed away a step. “Ignis was trying to help me, and-”

“And what?!” Noctis’ hackles raised, and Prompto flinched. “What the hell?! You lied to me?!”

“Aranea told me to!” Prompto squeaked, his stomach sinking. “He said - ‘cause people hate Niffs - please, Noct, I would’ve told you, but-”

“But what?!” Noctis snarled and pushed Prompto, and Prompto staggered back. Gladio shot them a glare.

“Not now, Noct, leave the damn Niff alone and let’s help Iggy!” 

“Did you all do this?!” Noctis marched towards Prompto, and Prompto backed away. “Like you did to Insomnia? To Lucis?!”

“Noct, please!” Prompto held his hands up in front of him. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, the world just felt sick and wrong and Prompto was so disoriented at the shock that it was making him dizzy. “I didn’t - some weird guy in a hat - I just got so scared! I’m sorry!” He smeared his eyes. “I promise I’ve never done anything to hurt Lucis, I just wanted to live here in peace!”

“How am I supposed to believe you?! You Niffs are all the same!” Noctis flashed teeth in a snarl as the back of Prompto’s legs hit the wall. “You act nice ‘til you get what you want, then tear us apart from the inside! It’s what you did to my dad, to my city! And now you want to take Iggy from me too!”

“It wasn’t me! I’m sorry! Please don’t-”

Whatever Prompto was going to say got knocked out of his chest with an impact, as Noctis shoved him as hard as he could. His back hit the window, and the window buckled out behind him, and Prompto tumbled right off the sill. 

Before he knew it, he was staring up into the endless sky, the stars spiraling endlessly above him, and Prompto didn’t have time to inhale. He had exactly enough time to process one thought:

_Noctis pushed me out the window._

And then, impact.


	10. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto and Noctis realize the consequences of the raid.

**10:**

The world was crooked and wrong. Nothing looked or felt right. The air tasted like sulfur and iron, images warping and twisting around him. Everything was twisted and broken, fragments of reality filtering into his confused perception like coins sinking into an endless sea, touching his fingers as he grasped at them before inexorably falling away, lost and gone forever.

Prompto vaguely knew he was laying on the street in front of his tenement. He had some memory of being pushed, and somehow knew that something was gone forever. He’d lost something very important.

He wanted to get up.

_Why?_

He should get up.

_I want to…_

Noctis. Noctis was supposed to help, right?

_I want to…_

Noctis had gotten mad. Maybe if he could have just explained, but for once, he hadn’t been able to find the right words. Ironic, a newsboy couldn’t put the story together.

_I’m sorry…_

He tried to move, but his hands were too heavy to lift, his arms too weak. Something felt broken inside him, but he couldn’t put his finger on just what it was. _Something_ was broken. All he knew was that he hurt, that he was broken, and he had to get up.

Then, hands grabbed his, and someone was pulling his body. Prompto tried to look up, vision hazy, and he made out two people in soldier’s uniforms above him, and realized he was being dragged onto a cot. His muddled emotions finally resolved into a faint sense of danger and fear under all the pain, and then, a familiar smirking face appeared.

The man in the hat and greatcoat, his gleaming eyes blacked in shadow, his mouth glinting in a curious, sickly, fond smile. “I thought we missed a few,” he purred, then motioned to someone near him. “Do whatever you must to keep him alive. I want this one.” 

It was right about then the pain overwhelmed Prompto, and he knew nothing more.

* * *

Gladio burst back into the room, out of breath and red in the face. “The kid’s gone.”

Noctis was seated at Ignis’ side, with a basin of warm water and a roll of bandages. He’d managed to patch up most of his worst abrasions and cleared the powder from Ignis’ eyes. He dabbed a little more of the weird powder off of Ignis’ face and rinsed the cloth off, watching the powder fizzle away. 

He’d watched Prompto fall, heard Gladio swear, and for a few long minutes, the world had stopped feeling real. He did the only thing he could think of. He took care of Ignis.

“Noct, did you hear me?” Gladio threw his hands out. “He’s gone. And any information on who or what-”

“It was the Niffs,” Noctis muttered, scowling. Prompto was a Niff, just like all of the ones who’d destroyed his home, who forced his father into hiding, who was still stepping on the backs of his people. Had Prompto known who he was when he was cozying up to him, getting close enough that Noctis had _trusted_ him - or was he just luxuriating in the freedom to be a monster here without regard for who he hurt along the way?! Betrayal burned hot in his breast, up his throat, and every word he spat was tainted with that hurt: “The Niffs must have done this to Ignis, saw he wasn’t one of them and went for him-”

“Yeah, but which Niff?” Gladio scoffed.

“Does it even matter?” Noctis shook his head. “You heard the announcement on the radio. They’re sending them all away.”

Noctis could hear a radio from another room, and Lady Aera’s solemn announcement repeating: _“Attention, dear citizens. For the protection and safety of our Solheim and all of its residents, I, by the authority vested in me as the Conservateur of Solheim, have elected to exclude residents who have recently migrated from the Niflheim Empire. The Solar Army will be escorting excluded persons to a safe, designated area until such time as the safety of all of Solheim’s citizens can be guaranteed…”_

Lady Aera was sending all the Niffs away. Because she’d allied with the Lucians, she had decided to clear the city of the Niffs. Noctis hadn’t thought this might happen, and yet, in a way, he was too angry to care.

So what? The Niffs had forced him out of his city, destroyed his home. Why did they deserve to live happily in this city, after they had taken his? 

“Yeah, sure, but I still wanna know which one did it and kick his goddamned ass.” Gladio snorted loudly, then sat down beside Ignis, releasing a deep sigh as he settled. Noctis moved back as Gladio stared down at Ignis’ battered form, obvious shame in his brow, and fury and sorrow making his fingers tremble as he palpated Ignis’ wounds for himself. There was a brief crescendo of noise in the street below, then silence again as Noctis’ heart settled, heavy in his gut.

As the anger and horror of the initial shock faded, what remained in the dregs was disappointment, shame, and guilt. Disappointment in themselves, shame and guilt that neither of them had been able to do anything to stop it, that Ignis had been the first one to run out the door after Prompto, that Gladio had held Noctis back and refused to go himself and leave Noctis alone. 

Noctis swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Iggy,” he mumbled, but just then, Ignis stirred, mouth twitching, and Noctis’ heart lifted.

“Noct?” Ignis’ voice was tired, and though his eyes twitched, they didn’t open. Noctis grabbed his hand.

“I’m here. Don’t move. Where does it hurt?”

Ignis grimaced, and Noctis could see him trying to sit up. Gladio put a hand on his chest. “No, no way, you’re hurt. What can we do?”

“Prompto.” Ignis tugged Noctis’ hand. “Where is he? My eyes… I can’t open them.”

Noctis’ eyes widened. “What?”

“They burn,” he murmured faintly, “I fear they will burn worse if I open them.”

Noctis and Gladio traded a quick look - before Noctis murmured, “There was some sort of powder on your eyes.”

Ignis sighed, then exhaled slowly. “I believe the… the man who… who did this… Ardyn Izunia, the ambassador of Niflheim. We met him earlier today.” Ignis twisted his hand to instead grasp at Noctis’ sleeve. “He accosted Prompto and myself. He was attempting to seize Prompto.”

“What?!” Noctis’ heart dropped again.

“I don’t entirely understand, but it seems he was overseeing the seizure of Gralean citizens. He saw Prompto, and Prompto was so terrified at the prospect of being taken…” Ignis’ voice broke. “I can’t blame him for failing to come to my aid, but…”

“You’re saying this was someone else-”

“Did he take him?” Ignis tugged Noctis’ sleeve harder. “Prompto won’t survive if they press him back into service, or worse, who knows what they’ll do to defectors?”

Noctis’ heart was through the floor now. “Defectors?” He repeated. 

Ignis was silent, then forced himself to sit up. Gladio hissed and cursed, trying to push Ignis back down, but Ignis lifted an arm to halt him. “Noct. Prompto took the courtesy to confirm everything that was suspected about the Gralean army. Please tell me the two of you were aware.”

Noctis sensed Gladio stiffening beside him, and swallowed shame as he admitted what Gladio probably didn’t want to: “Dad never told me much about that.”

“Yeah, all I knew was that they were the enemy. They’ve got an enormous army, and they all want us dead.”

Ignis sighed impatiently, tipping his head back. “My uncle was part of the investigation force. He had been compiling a report for His Majesty. Prompto’s words to me tonight confirmed everything we suspected.” He settled on his thighs, faintly rocking as he tried to avoid all of his sore spots. “Their army is not voluntary. Virtually every Gralean boy is pressed into service. The wealthier families can pay off the so-called recruiters, but many of the less fortunate are pressed to give up their sons as young boys, sometimes even mere infants torn from their mothers’ arms, and are trained from childhood to make war.”

Prompto. Noctis suddenly felt sick down to his very bones. “Prompto?”

“He’s Gralean, yes. And he said he was taken from his parents when he was six.”

Noctis had been kicking a leather ball in the garden courtyard and etching chalk drawings on the tile stones on the walkway between the Citadel doors and the castle walls when he was six. Noctis thought of being taken from his bed and having a gun put in his hands when he was still fumbling to hold a pencil. Then, he thought of someone doing it to Prompto and suppressed the urge to scream.

“Cor Leonis has reported that he has found more than one of their soldiers cowering and crying in the trenches, when they’re not laying down and waiting to be shot. Much of the time, when he asks their names, they only give a number. They are drilled and conditioned to be nothing more than soldiers, and it’s suspected that the younger, newer soldiers are being given even harsher training, to make it harder for them to break loose of the conditioning.” Ignis sucked his cheeks in. “This would account for the poor condition of Prompto’s two younger adopted brothers.”

“Those aren’t soldiers,” Gladio muttered suddenly. “Those are… those are slaves, or automatons like from novels. How can they do that to _people?!”_

“Ask Prompto,” Ignis answered, a little harsher. “Because he would obviously rather be anywhere _but_ a battlefield. He and his family are likely all traumatized soldiers who escaped being killed by their superiors. Solheim was one of the few neutral places that people in his situation could go, and that the ambassador from Niflheim himself was overseeing their seizure bodes poorly for their fates. I must ask again: where is he?”

Noctis couldn’t answer, because he was seeing it in his mind again: Prompto, falling away, tumbling out the window towards the ground, vanishing into the dark. Gone.

“He…” Noctis’ throat closed up. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Izunia,” Ignis repeated. 

“Prompto was the one who brought you back,” Gladio muttered, “but…”

“Prompto,” Noctis choked out. “He’d… he’d never hurt anyone, would he?” He squeezed his eyes shut, but found himself haunted by the memory of Prompto’s cheerful smile, his encouragement and reassurances, his knack for saying exactly what Noctis needed to hear, his sunshine disposition. He was the reason Noctis was willing to get up in the early mornings, and just a few hours ago, he’d gone to sleep hoping to wake next to Prompto every morning for the rest of his life, somehow or other. “He’s… he’s gentle.” He choked up, a sob warring its way up his throat, but Gladio slapped his back.

“Don’t do this to yourself, you did what you thought was right at the time.”

“Noct,” Ignis asked urgently, voice rattling, “What did you do?” 

“I…” Noctis winced, but choked every word out: “I… I thought he hurt you… I thought it was his fault… I was… yelling at him… and he fell out the window-”

“He’s gone,” Gladio muttered. “When I went to look, he was gone.”

Ignis slumped over, as Noctis’ composure broke and he had to suck back a dry sob. Gladio grimaced and patted Noctis’ back, but Ignis said what neither of them had to: “Do you think he got up and walked away after falling five stories?” 

“They have him,” Noctis said instantly. “If… if he even survived… They must have taken him or his b-" His breath hitched. He couldn't bring himself to say it, to admit what he'd done to Prompto. "He came here to get away from them, but I...”

His demand that Lady Aera help Lucis had forced her to choose a side, and took away the safe harbor that defectors like Prompto might have had. This was his fault, and he knew it.

Then, Gladio asked the question: “What are they going to do with all the runaway soldiers?”

“Only the Gods know,” Ignis murmured as he slumped down again.

Noctis didn’t know, and he didn’t want to, but now, that notion would haunt his every waking moment. Whatever happened to Prompto now was on his head.

* * *

Prompto opened his eyes again to find he was crammed into a tiny space, his body packed in between many others. He didn’t know any faces or voices, only that the space around him had suddenly become painfully loud, and an instant after he opened his eyes, too bright. 

A door had been opened, and Prompto, still dazed and weary, managed to put together that they were in some sort of caravan, because as the men in front of him were forced to get out, he felt the wheels bouncing under their shifting weight, but he couldn’t remember being put into the caravan, and he had no idea where he was being taken. 

Someone was demanding him to move. He tried but found he couldn’t, his body too sore, and something still felt so wrong, like everything in his body had been rattled and couldn’t fall back into place. He was vaguely aware that every bone in his body was screaming pain, and the only reason he was moving was because an angry, harsh voice was forcing him to do so. 

He was strapped right onto a cart with wheels, his whole body compressed in some sort of thick, quilted restraint clothing that was either holding him up or holding him together. He couldn’t actually move on his own. Someone else was moving him now.

He hardly felt attached to his own body, more like a ghost tethered to his own hobbled frame like a balloon, hovering above and watching rather than truly living the moment. Some of the men around him still struggled as they were all lined up to be marched into the open warehouse in front of them, but many of them were already in handcuffs or had their ankles chained to one another. He was restrained against the board, and he was too weak to struggle anyway.

One by one, they were marched across crunching gravel, the wheels on his cart rattling under him. Prompto glanced around him to see more and more canvas-covered caravan cars lined up, all with lines of young men who looked a lot like him streaming out: blond, skinny, ragged, and tired. One or two had leather guards over their mouths - they’d been spitting or biting, Prompto figured through the fog in his mind. Ahead of him, Prompto saw the familiar white and gray uniform of Niflheim officers, the sons of wealthier families who had gone to military academies so they could have authority over the foot soldiers. They were all checking the wrists of the men lined up ahead of him, making a note in their books, and then they would each be directed a different way. Prompto began to hear what they were saying as he got closer:

“Deserted prior to deployment. To retraining.”

“Presumed captured. Retraining.”

“Assaulted a superior. Take him to storage.” The officer gave an especially sharp nod, and the man struggled for a moment until two soldiers in their full armor seized him and removed him. The officer coldly moved to the next.

“Captured, suspected deserter. Interrogation.”

Prompto winced to think what would happen to those put in ‘storage.’ He almost forgot to think of what might happen to him.

Prompto arrived at the front of the line, and the guard pushing him unstrapped his arm from his chest - a weal of pain lashed through him, but he had no strength to scream - and began to peel away the thick fabric holding him in place. The officer stared at him expectantly, as he silently willed it to stop, hoping lightning might strike and stop what was coming, knowing what was there on his wrist and already hating the thought of it, until intervention came in the worst way: 

There was a whistle and a beckon in a familiar snide tone, “Oh, do wait!”

Prompto turned his head slowly, his aching bones making motion feel worse, and he saw the man in the greatcoat, wearing white like the other officers now, read hair bound in a ponytail, approaching with an older man in a doctor’s coat. Prompto’s eyes widened - the man from before had been the one to find him, he knew Prompto was injured, maybe he was coming to take Prompto to an infirmary? But then, he was disposable, so easily replaceable, why would they bother with a doctor? The man in the doctor’s coat had unkind eyes, sallow and beset with wrinkles and deep blue rings, and he hobbled over a step behind the man with the red hair.

“Is this the one, Ambassador Izunia?” His voice was gravelly and weathered, and Prompto grimaced as Izunia smirked.

“Yes, the very same. I’m certain I saw this boy with the young Prince of Lucis. I thought the Prince himself was familiar, but the moment I confirmed his identity, I realized it may be worthwhile to ensure we retrieved his companion, especially given that he’s one of ours.” He smirked, and Prompto felt his stomach sink. “Doctor Besithia, won’t you do me a kindness and ensure we prepare him especially?”

Then, Izunia seized his shoulders and forced Prompto’s cart to turn and made him face Doctor Besithia. His entire body roared with pain, but he didn’t dare scream, not when screaming and crying had been driven out of him as a child in the training camps, beaten when he complained, punished by all the other boys that bunked with him to drive his tears away. He instead bit the inside of his cheeks, but even that was too much, as Besithia scoffed, “No complaining. I can see you took some damage, but the vitamin-enhanced diet we fed you when you were under our care should have bolstered your body against such blows.”

Prompto swallowed heavily, faintly recalling the dense, flavorless nutrition sludge that had been served to him every morning. He had never wanted to eat it, but he didn’t want to starve. What had even been in it? 

Ignorant of Prompto’s swirling internal turmoil, Besithia poked and prodded him through the thick suiting encasing him.

“We’ll reinforce his armor,” he muttered after a moment, and Prompto flinched at the mention of the armor, that hellish suit. He’d tossed his old armor in a ditch the moment he’d been able to rip it off, and remembered feeling like he was so light he could fly. Now, he stood anchored here, trapped by the misfortune of his youth. Then, Besithia seized his chin, tugged at his lips and forced his mouth open to check his teeth, then demanded, “Identify yourself.”

“Prompto,” he mumbled. He still remembered how long Aranea had sat with him, calling him every name she could think of until one rang a bell, and he remembered what his mother and father had called him. Besithia, however, sneered and shook his head. 

“Incorrect. Identify yourself.”

“Prompto,” he repeated, louder, and Besithia’s face wrinkled minutely more in anger, but Izunia tutted him before Besithia could speak. 

“Is that what the Prince called you?” He clicked his tongue a few times. “The very same one who pushed you out of a fifth-story window when he learned what you were?” Prompto grimaced, lowering his face with shame. “ _People_ don’t treat one another like that, do they, _soldier_?”

Prompto flinched, and Aranea’s words to him when she’d found him two years ago echoed dimly in his memory:

_“You’re just another kid. Another little boy stolen from his family by the Imperial war machine. Machines get numbers. People get names. You’ve got a name, don’t you?”_

“05953234,” he mumbled. 

Izunia smothered a low chuckle into his palm. Besithia took his wrist and popped his cuff, then turned his wrist over to examine the imprint there, and smirked with satisfaction. “Good soldier.” He turned to one of the waiting soldiers in armor. “Take this one to rehabilitation. I’ll attend him personally in due time.”

And then, Prompto was dragged into the darkness of the building, and back into the ranks of the Imperial soldiers.


	11. 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis faces the reality of what's happened in Solheim - then faces off with Somnus.

**11:**  
  
Days had passed in somber silence at the tenement. The morning after the raids, a man in a suit bearing the crest of the Solar Army came to their room and asked them to remain in place as the city cleanup continued, promising further aid in the near future. He’d left them food and promised to send a doctor for Ignis. 

Ignis slept and woke intermittently, too weak to move more than a little and still pained. When the doctor came, he did his best to clean Ignis’ wounds again, stitching the ones that refused to close, and examining his eyes. 

“From what I can tell,” he told the three of them, “It seems to be some sort of powdered acid that was thrown into his eyes. Keep cold compresses on them to keep the swelling down, and clean them with saline every few hours.”

Gladio asked, “Do you think he’ll be able to see again?” 

Ignis pursed his lips as the doctor hesitated, considering his words, then murmured, “That remains to be seen. If the damage to his eyelids is not so severe, they may unseal yet, but only time will tell.” He patted Ignis’ shoulder. “Have your friends mind you, son.”

“Brothers,” Ignis rasped, and Noctis, from his perch in the window, suppressed a scoff.

Who would want a brother like him?

Neither Prompto nor any member of his family had ever returned to the neighboring tenement. The door had been left unlocked, and Gladio looked around to find it appeared they’d all been in bed, four bedrolls left a mess, one untouched. Their clothes and their few personal items, like the record player and an unlabelled vinyl, a flowerpot with a wilted plant in it, and a few books, all had been left. Worse, from the news reports Noctis heard on the radio, being hollered in the street, or from Lady Aera’s announcements, Gralea had apparently quickly found out about the removal of Gralean nationals from Solheim, not to mention Solheim’s formal offer of alliance with Lucis, and had already vowed swift retribution. However, there had been news from Lucis, too: supposedly, with Solheim’s announcement that they would be sending Lucis supplies, the Lucian army was already rallying and moving to push the Imperials out of their territory, with renewed aid from Cleigne and Duscae. 

Noctis couldn’t even bring himself to be happy. He’d convinced Gladio to go to the post office in his stead to see if there was any word from Cor or his father, but to no avail. Gladio would snort at him every time his face fell.

“They’ve likely got too much work to do, now that you’ve done your part.” He flapped his hand at Noctis in a dismissive wave. “You might as well enjoy the chance for a rest, not that I’m sure you’d be good for much else with the state you’re in.”

Gladio had been ignoring the stress of waiting for word by taking on more construction jobs, which had a sudden need for skilled repairmen to pick up the pieces after the night of raiding Gralean homes and businesses. However, Noctis had been asked to stay inside to avoid risk to himself, so he did. 

He sat in the window all day, unless he was cleaning Ignis’ wounds or doing something he needed to do, or couldn’t avoid doing. He instead listened to the sounds in the street below, of Solar army caravans transporting out more Graleans, people mingling in the road, voices all muted and somber, newsboys shouting the headlines. 

He didn’t hear Prompto’s cheerful call in the streets once, and the whole city was dimmer for that loss. 

What right did he have to complain? He could have done something, but Prompto was gone because of him. 

So, he sat in quiet, mourning that his own rash anger had caused him to lose the one friend he’d made on his own.

Finally, three days after the meeting and the night of the raid on the Graleans, Gladio returned from a day at work with a message from Lucis. 

“Cor sent a telegram,” he said the moment he came through the door. Noctis waited for the burst of excitement that should have come, but it failed to. Gladio stared at him impassively. “You look like you don’t care.”

“I… I do,” Noctis replied insistently. “What’d he say?” 

“Not much, just, ‘On the move, talk again soon.’” He sighed and seated himself at Ignis’ bedside, on the ground near his chest. He touched Ignis’ hand. “Hey, Iggy,” he murmured, low and gentle, “how are you?”

Ignis didn’t wake or answer, but it was perhaps just as well. Noctis had seen all the lumps on his head. He clearly wasn’t recovered, and might not be for weeks yet. 

“Lucis is getting better, at least,” he muttered, then looked back out the window at the yellow, clouded sky.

Had he even seen Prompto hit the ground? What would it have looked like? Prompto was muscular but skinny under his clothes, bony like a bird, frail. Did he just shatter on impact? Or did he just lie there, in pieces, until the Solar Army dragged him away? 

“But what about Solheim?” He stood, face curdling with disgust, and began to pace in front of the bedrolls. Gladio sneered at him, before returning his attention to Ignis, expression somber and soft. Noctis scoffed and paced a few more lines. “We shouldn’t have come here and upturned this city for our sake-”

“We had no way of knowing they would do that,” Gladio interrupted sharply, then sighed. “Noct, you can’t keep torturing yourself-”

“My actions mean hundreds of people are being tortured because of me!”

“You can’t put that on your shoulders!” Gladio crescendoed to a shout, and Noctis stopped in place, shivering. “You had no control over what Lady Aera and Ambassador Somnus did. Prompto - yeah, but that was an _accident_ , you had no way of knowing-”

“Don’t.” It came out of Noctis unbidden, ragged and rough. “I’m not forgiving myself for that, and I don’t want anyone else to, either. But… Lady Aera and Ambassador Somnus…” He bit his lip. “I _have_ to talk to them. They have to know that I don’t want this.”

“You were told to st-”

“I _know_ I was told to stay here, but I’m not getting anything done here.” He adjusted his suspenders and went to grab his street shoes. “I never accomplished anything in the safe walls of Lucis, and I sure as hell won’t get anything done by standing here and waiting to be told what to do.”

Gladio stared at him, his gaze heavy, as he tied his shoes. Then, he knelt down by Ignis again, putting his hand on his chest. “Hey, Iggy?” He gave him a soft shake, just enough to shift him, and Ignis groaned.

“What is it?” He rasped.

“I gotta go somewhere with Noct. You’ll be alone a little while.” Noctis halted a moment, as he saw the worry wrinkling Gladio’s brow. “You think you’ll be alright?”

Ignis chuckled roughly, weakly. “I daresay so. I feel no worse than I have, and I’ll likely go back to sleep. Surely he must be restless.”

“Something like that,” Noctis muttered, loud enough for Ignis to hear. “There’s something I gotta do.”

Ignis smiled wryly. “I wish you the best, then. I won’t move an inch.” He settled back in and turned over, and Gladio looked to Noctis and nodded in resolution.

Gladio pulled a jacket on over his work shirt and walked at Noctis’ back, as Noctis led him down to the street. They walked down the sparsely populated sidewalks, past the shattered windows and glass scattered on the cobblestones, flyers torn from the brick and leaving only the pasted corners. Noctis thought he might have seen bloodstains reflecting the sunset light, but the black pools vanished as he passed them, there and gone like a shadow in a flashbulb.

Noctis walked to City Hall, wondering how many of Solheim’s residents were gone. 

City Hall’s lobby was as busy as it had been when Noctis and Gladio first arrived, but Gladio had to part the path for them without Gilgamesh to do so. Gladio forced a path for Noctis to reach the reception desk, and leaned over to the secretary, an older, tired-looking woman with deep-set wrinkles, and muttered, “Call the Lucian Ambassador Somnus Lucis Caelum, tell him his cousin Noct is here.”

The secretary was unmoved. “Sir, you’ll need an appointment-”

“Just call him,” Gladio hissed, “you’ll find he might be interested in making an exception.”

The secretary turned to him with a harsh stare, but almost out of nowhere, Gilgamesh emerged and tapped her shoulder. “You may want to listen to him.” He gave a nod, and the secretary, lips still pursed, took up a wired phone and dialed a number.

“Lord Caelum, a young man claiming he is your cousin is here.” There was a beat, and her eyes went wide. “Er - yes, Master Gilgamesh is here. I’ll ask him to - goodbye.” She nodded, but before she could say another word, Gilgamesh patted her shoulder and circled around the desk.

“Your Highness.” Gilgamesh briefly bowed his head, then led Noctis to the same elevator they’d used just a few days before. Somehow, the anxiety swimming in Noctis’ gut only turned sour instead of building like a storm. Gladio, however, stared at Gilgamesh as the elevator doors shut. 

“Did you know?” He asked, unsettling the quiet. Noctis shrank against the wall, but Gilgamesh, straight-spined, eyes faced plainly forward, didn’t say anything. Gladio turned on him, squaring up his shoulders. “Did you know that if Solheim allied with Lucis, Lady Aera would turn on all of the Niffs hiding here?”

“It’s not my place to pass judgment,” Gilgamesh muttered without looking at him. “Only to bear witness. If your Prince ever sits the Throne, it will be your duty to watch him make mistakes in silence. You had best begin to become accustomed to it sooner rather than later.” The elevator door opened, and Gilgamesh stood aside to let Noctis and Gladio pass him.

Somnus’ office door was open, and he was seated at his desk, reviewing a few papers. Noctis briefly eyed the swords hung on the walls as he passed, grimacing, but he stood across from Somnus, heart sinking as Somnus kept his face in his work. He glanced up for a moment, smiled briefly, then returned his attention to his work.

“A pleasure to see you, Noctis, but a surprise. I’m thankful you brought your bodyguard with you, but the two of you are a bit, well, green, perhaps.” His face flickered with a smile that Noctis could only read as condescending, and the sour feeling in Noctis’ gut began to burn. “Still, I’m not unhappy to see you. I had intended to send a message with a full accounting of what Lady Aera and I have arranged-”

“Somnus.” Noctis gripped the desk. “I need to know. Did you tell Lady Aera to send away all the Graleans?” 

This seemed to give Somnus pause, and he knit up his brow as he fixed his gaze on Noctis. “Why, Noctis, I had assumed you would want as much. They’re your enemies, aren’t they? This is what we must do to our enemies.” He laced his fingers, like a school head scolding a misbehaving pupil. “You still seemed so heartbroken over what they’d done to your city. Have you so soon forgotten?”

“That - the people here didn’t do that.” Noctis shook his head. “They weren’t Gralean like the people who raided Insomnia, they’re refugees, people who left, people who were trying to get away!”

“Then does that mean you are no longer Lucian?” Noctis flinched at Somnus’ turnabout, and gritted his teeth as Somnus continued to stare straight through him. 

“It’s different.” Noctis’ fingers curled into fists on Somnus’ desk. “I _love_ Lucis. I love Insomnia. I’d go back if I could. The Niffs living here didn’t want to be Gralean anymore-”

“And how do you know that?” Somnus lifted his hands. “Did you ask them all how they felt?”

Noctis hung his head. “I knew a few of them.”

“Is that it, then?” Somnus snorted. “Sleeping with the enemy, are we?”

“That has nothing to do with it!” Noctis pounded his fist on the desk, but he didn’t miss Gladio’s choked inhale. “The people living here aren’t the enemy. They’re all just people!” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, thinking on his weeks living in Solheim, all the papers he’d told, the people he’d passed on the street, right down to the cheerful friend at his side. “I’ve met more Graleans in this city than I probably even know, and they’re all just people, normal people who are trying to get by!”

“Noct, I hadn’t thought you so naive.” Somnus gravely shook his head, sitting back slowly as if dazed, but Noctis felt his ire burn only hotter as Somnus’ apathy mocked his passion. “Graleans _are_ the enemy, whether they are in Gralea or no. For the Graleans in the trenches in Lucis, they’re just the same: people trying to get by. The difference is, their way of getting by is _through_ the Lucian line and by taking the lives of as many Lucians as they can on their way. Are you truly suggesting we just leave the Graleans here to become embittered until their fury steeps so sour in their hearts that they turn on us?”

Noctis gripped the desk to keep himself from jumping over it and putting his fist into Somnus’ smug face. “In Lucis, we didn’t punish anyone who hadn’t done anything wrong yet!”

“We’re not in Lucis,” Somnus countered smoothly, and Noctis, too angry to think, came up short. Somnus clicked his tongue, and concluded, “You wanted Solheim to help Lucis win the war, little Prince. You’ll have your war, even the parts of it you find distasteful.” He stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I must make arrangements with Ambassador Izunia with regard to the treatment of the Graleans you endeavor to save.”

Something clicked, and Noctis found himself knocked out of his anger in an instant, as the cold facts clicked: “You’re working with Izunia?”

Somnus had been gathering his coat, but paused in pulling his sleeve on, frowning. “Beg pardon?”

“Ardyn Izunia. You’re cooperating with him.” Noctis’ brow furrowed, and Gladio shot him an urgent look. “Why the hell are you cooperating with Izunia?” Noctis’ back stiffened. “And why on Eos would he be cooperating with the seizure of the Gralenas-”

Somnus shook his head. “He-”

“Don’t lie,” Gladio muttered, and took a step forward to put himself between Somnus and Noctis. “Ignis saw him. Ignis saw him helping the Solheim authorities round up the Graleans. You’ve all just been waiting for this chance, haven’t you?”

“Izunia wanted to round up all of the refugees and defected soldiers,” Noctis said, the pieces falling into place in a terrible, terrible puzzle. “And you’re working with Izunia because you _want_ the war between Lucis and Niflheim to get worse. You want the war to come to Solheim, don’t you?”

Somnus didn’t respond, and even the false warmth in his eyes faded as all of the swords hanging on Somnus’ walls seemed to point directly at Noctis - and the truth.

“Why?” Noctis demanded softly, and Somnus…

_Laughed._

“So, the boy Prince realizes I might have some aspirations of my own.” He buttoned his coat, smirking as he averred Noctis’ furious glare. “If Lucis and Niflheim tear each other apart, Solheim rises above the both of them, and - let’s be quite honest - when that happens, Solheim will need a real leader. Lady Aera’s wise but weak-willed, too afraid to outstep the bounds of her position and take a stand. After the dust settles, the council will surely look for a new leader, and who better than the second-in-line to Lucis and the man who led the charge in the first place?” He turned his smirk to Noctis. “So the Gods deemed that, by virtue of our great-grandfathers’ birth order, an impetuous child like you should stand above me in succession to Lucis? So be it. But when Lucis is as much rubble as Niflheim, what will your crown mean?” Somnus stepped around his desk and past Noctis. “I gave you what you asked for, Your Highness. Don’t deign to complain now.”

“You son of a-”

Noctis lunged for Somnus, but Gilgamesh planted himself between Noctis and Somnus with a forbidding glare, and Gladio grabbed Noctis’ shoulder to hold him back. He and Gilgamesh held eyes for a moment, trading some sort of unspoken understanding, and Gladio held Noctis in place, fingers digging deep into his shoulder, as Somnus left with Gilgamesh at his back.

“Noct, let’s just go.” 

“No!” Noctis shoved Gladio off as the office door shut, then cleaned Somnus’ desk with a sweep of his arms, sending his books and files clattering to the floor. “Gladio, you heard him, we can’t just-”

“Aye, I heard him!” Gladio snarled, and Noctis realized he wasn’t the only one furious. “We heard every word! And I know we need to stop him, but brute force won’t work on him. He’s playing chess, not toy swords, and we need to fight his manipulations with some of our own.” Gladio glared at the door. “We need to stop this war our own way. I have an idea of just who can do it, too.”


	12. 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto suffers his torments with the recaptured Gralean soldiers, as Noctis convinces Lady Aera to take action for her people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some medical procedures near the beginning of the chapter.

**12:**

Prompto still felt like a black balloon tied to his own corpse as he was hauled through the facility, and bore silent witness as the machinations of the Gralean army made to swallow him once again. 

The medical team in the facility held his body in place with braces and splints to keep his bones where they belonged, feeding him some sort of syrup every hour or so that made him feel dizzy and woozy. Even if he had wanted to lift his braced arms and try to muster some sort of resistance, whatever was in that syrup kept him docile. Every sip they fed him sucked the fight right out of him.

Besides, it was keeping the pain away, and Prompto was tired of the pain. He really wanted the pain to stop, as it hung around his whole body like an anchor that was dragging him through the earth under his feet.

For some reason, Izunia personally supervised his medical treatment. Prompto would see him out of the corner of his eye, peeking around the white curtain in the infirmary to stare at him, or standing at the head of his bed. Once, while the medic was bolting a metal rod to his femur, Izunia swaggered into view and leaned over the head of his bed to whisper:

“What hurt more when the Prince pushed you? The impact? Or your broken heart?” He chuckled, low and cruel, as he retrieved Prompto’s weakened spirit from the fog it had been mired in just to step on it again. “I suppose that assumed a little tin soldier like you ever really had a heart. A pity.” He patted Prompto’s shoulder, though Prompto was so numb he was barely aware of the contact. “Not to worry, you’ll get your chance at revenge.” 

He stepped back, sighing nostalgically and glancing out to the side of the room - a window, maybe? Prompto tried to turn his head and look. He could distantly see lights, but nothing clearly, and nothing was reflected in Izunia’s eyes. “You were playing at brotherhood, weren’t you? Perhaps you know what sibling rivalry is. It’s like my boyhood with Somnus again, this little game. Somnus will get his war and play his hand as he pleases, but in the end, Niflheim will crush Lucis and take Solheim, and the rest will be history.” He turned to Prompto again and pinched his cheek. “You’ll be a fun little trump card, you will. All I need you to do is ensure the Prince is dealt with, and leave Lucis without an heir and even more to throw itself away for. Niflheim will be ready when Lucis cries vengeance for its lost Prince, with one good battalion to strike them down.” He smirked into Prompto’s face, and when he spoke, Prompto felt like he was spewing mustard gas: “Don’t you want a little vengeance for the heart you don’t have?”

Prompto couldn’t answer, instead sealing his mouth to suppress a scream that wouldn’t come as a screw was driven into his leg.

Once he’d been sufficiently put back together, Prompto was shuffled to the line with the rest of the defectors who were being put back into service. He distantly realized that all of them were dull-eyed and sluggish - had they been given some of the same drug he had? - and nobody was making a move to run or fight anymore. Perhaps they’d realized what he had - they had nowhere else to run to, no idea where home might be, no safe harbor to hope for - or perhaps they were being plied with whatever Niflheim was putting in their food and medicine to force them to cooperate. 

They were each pressed in armor, metal plates on their chest, arms and legs. Prompto didn’t even flinch as the metal was sealed around him, encasing the bracing on his body but fitting poorly because of it. He could barely walk without it on, but once he was sealed in, he knew moving would be nothing but a nightmare.

Then, came the mask. Prompto remembered the mask, and not fondly. He remembered how it pressed on his eyes, how he struggled to sleep wearing it, how his face felt heavy, how nothing outside of it felt real. He jerked back when the officer tried to press it onto his face, and found himself seized by three people - three other MT soldiers, already forced into their full uniforms, their masked faces blankly staring back at him. Prompto didn’t have the strength to scream nor even struggle as it was pressed onto him. 

Finally, Prompto was marched into some sort of holding room, dim, featureless, windowless, and grey, where scores of MT Soldiers were waiting, standing still in rows, as everyone arrived. Prompto silently numbered the seconds that passed as more and more of them were crowded in, shoulder to shoulder, all pressing in around his shaking form as the minutes ticked by.

Then, there was a resounding impact as the door shut suddenly. Prompto tried to look back, but only saw the last glint of light vanish from the room. Then, there was a crackling noise from all around him, and Prompto looked around.

Only as his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room did he notice the odd, round tubes that broadened like the petals of a flower - or perhaps, like the horn on a gramophone, or the speaker of a radio. 

Prompto heard another crackle of noise again, then looked to the front of the room. There was a small dais with a plinth on it, and Prompto squinted to make it out: a record player. And Besithia was placing a record on it.

The panic spiked exactly when Besithia dropped the needle, and a great and horrible noise filled the room.

Prompto would never be able to describe the noise. He only knew that there was noise, and something warped inside of him in ways that he couldn’t define, and he was not conscious of it long enough to realize what was happening to him until it was too late.

The balloon burst, and Prompto was gone in a blink of an eye and a fragment of a thought:

_Sorry, Noct._

* * *

Somnus had made a mistake. He’d left Noctis in the building, and he had left the elevator unlocked. It was practically an invitation. 

Noctis recalled that Somnus had requested Lady Aera meet with him using that fancy tube system, and he was tempted to storm her office. Gladio, however, had observed a little more closely, and was able to write a message to Lady Aera and shot it to her through the tubes.

 _Prince Noctis would like to meet_.

Her response came quickly: _Please send him up_.

Noctis and Gladio rode the elevator up to the top floor, and found Lady Aera standing in front of her desk. She bowed as he approached, and he returned it. 

“Your Highness-”

“Milady.” Noctis sighed as he straightened his back and set his shoulders back. “I need to talk to you about the confined Graleans.”

“I realize it seems barbaric,” Aera said in a rush, as if she had been waiting to say it to someone. “But Somnus insisted we had no choice.”

“There was always a choice.” Noctis crossed his arms, before forcing his hands to his sides. “I’m - I know it probably seemed like a good idea at the time, but the Graleans - did they deserve that? None of them had caused trouble, and we had no way of knowing if they did.”

“We have a bigger issue,” Gladio rumbled firmly, and Noctis, wide-eyed, paused to see him drawing himself up. “Our third, Noctis’ chamberlain, was injured during the raid. We have reason to believe that Graleans were mistreated while being taken into custody. I’m not sure what the point of doing it as violently as it was done was, but we want to be taken to where the Graleans are being kept, so we can see the conditions your people are in and look for the person Ignis said attacked him.”

Noctis schooled his features as he realized what Gladio was doing. He returned his focus to Aera. “They’re Solheimers, aren’t they? They were, they lived in your city, just the same as anyone else did.”

“Your Highness… no, Noctis.” Aera smiled wearily, shaking her head. “I see you’ve become wise for your years. Still…” She glanced to the floor at her feet. “I’m not certain…”

“We’ll bring Ignis.” Gladio spoke firmly, shoulders back. “I’ll carry him if he’s too weak to walk. However, he wants this chance, and so do we.” 

“I understand.” Aera’s hands, folded in front of her, clasped and locked together. “In fact, I agree. I would like to see where the Graleans are being kept, too.” 

Noctis and Gladio traded looks, as Aera lifted her face. “I have my own suspicions. I wanted to hear from the Crown Prince himself, but for some reason, Somnus said you were unable to come to me, and I could not come to you, not to where you’ve been living.” She walked towards the two of them. “I will take you myself. I have reason to believe I can’t trust either Ambassador, Izunia or Caelum, but I trust you.” She took Noctis’ hands. “Somnus did disclose where he and Ambassador Izunia had agreed to keep the displaced Graleans, and I can take you there.”

Noctis bowed his head and kissed the back of her hand. “I’d appreciate that, Milady.”

Aera smiled fondly, then patted his head. “It’s strange; you came before dressed as a prince. I think I prefer you better as a man.” 

Aera opened one of the bookshelves to reveal a coat closet, and pulled a beige canvas trenchcoat from within, as well as a broad sunhat. She put both on, swamping her narrow shoulders and covering her fine hair. 

Gladio offered her his arm. “Incognito, ma’am?”

“I must,” Aera replied quietly, as she summoned the elevator. “I am loathed by as many as those who love me. Otherwise, I would have come to your tenement myself, but those I have failed to help have the most cause to hate me.”

Noctis sucked his cheeks in, but stood on Aera’s other side as they waited for the elevator. He’d heard plenty of complaints about Lady Aera, but he never thought she’d be so conscious of them. 

“You must know,” Aera told them on the elevator, “that the rumors that Niflheim has threatened an attack in retribution for allying Solheim with Lucis are true.” Noctis flinched, but Gladio patted his shoulder, a reminder to keep himself grounded. “However, if things are truly different than they seem, then I must get my own house in order. Solheim will not fall on my watch. I must take control of my city, or I fear I will lose it.” She turned to Noctis. “I hope I can prove a good role model for you, in some way.”

“We’re both in difficult positions,” Noctis murmured, grimacing as the lights of the passing landings flashed through the minute gap in the elevator doors. “I’m pretty sure it’s best for both of us if we cooperate, no intermediaries.”

“Agreed.” Aera smiled wryly, and the door opened, ending their conversation in the swell of noise from the bustling lobby.

Aera was small, but she insisted on leading the way through the crowded lobby. She was buffeted and dodged around others, until Gladio walked alongside her to help part the way. When they finally got outside, Aera turned to Gladio. “It’s been some time since I’ve been to the docks. Do you gentlemen know the quickest way?”

“Aye,” Gladio answered, “would you have us call you a cab?”

“No. If the two of you are satisfied to walk, I’ll walk with you.” Aera smiled lightly, and Gladio put himself between her and the street. 

“I’ll be your escort.” He gave her a winning smile, but put his shoulders back in a way that made clear he was ready to handle anyone who got between them and their destination, and Noctis took the lead.

He’d walked this city plenty, covering every block with his footprints. He used to have someone at his side that made every mile seem shorter, but he could go the distance alone if it meant getting him back.

Aera seemed more like a tourist in her own city as they walked back towards the tenement district and the docks. Noctis could practically see her apprising the damage done by her own guards as they walked, lips pursed. 

“There’ll be a great deal of rebuilding to be done,” she murmured. “I had thought my city had taken all the damage it could when it was nearly razed two generations ago, and yet…” Her gaze turned to the people on the opposite side of the street, shrinking away from a Solar Guardsman standing on a street corner. “Things have only gotten worse.”

Noctis’ shoulders sank, and he wondered what Insomnia looked like now that the Niffs had destroyed it. He wondered what the people thought of the Royal family for abandoning them. 

Aera waited with Noctis in front of the tenement, and Gladio went to retrieve Ignis. Noctis counted cracks in the floor tiles, and mused on how eerily quiet the building was compared to what he was used to. He tried not to think of how Gladio was going to get Ignis down the stairs, he’d barely been out of his bedroll since his injuries. However, much faster than Noctis could have hoped, Gladio returned with Ignis at his side, one of Ignis’ arms looped around his neck. Ignis was hobbled, but he mostly moved on his own power, even unsighted. 

Aera extended her hand and touched his as the two of them reached her. “Dear man, words cannot say how sorry I am for what befell you in my city.”

“It would be a misfortune anywhere it occurred.” Ignis put on a wan, thin smile, but he squeezed her hand in return. “I fear I may not be quite as useful as I would be otherwise, but I’ll do my best to be of service.”

“I just want you with us in case we find him, Ignis.” Noctis subtly glanced between Aera and Gladio, but Gladio cleared his throat.

“Noct, no. We can trust her.” He faced her and spoke softly. “Ignis knows his attacker. We just weren’t certain who in your office we could trust.”

“I assure you, you can trust me.” Aera clasped her hands. “Name him, and I’ll do anything in my power to ensure he’s punished.”

Ignis pursed his lips, his face tipping forward. His eyes were still sealed shut, and the scars were setting in, almost purple in the dusky light. Then, he murmured, “I was brutalized by Ambassador Izunia while attempting to protect one of our neighbors here, a Gralean refugee.”

Aera gasped, then grasped Ignis’ hand. “No!”

“I fear it so.” Ignis bowed his head. “And I fear you may not have authority over him.”

“I… oh, dear.” Aera put her hand to her mouth. “He offered to supervise the removal, but…” Her chin dropped towards her chest. “I… I can’t pursue him, no. I didn’t know…”

“You could not reasonably have been expected to do so.” Ignis shook his head. “And we cannot expect you to act against an agent of a foreign government, especially one with whom you are already escalating tensions. However, our refugee neighbor was understandably distressed.”

Aera inhaled, gathering herself, then put her shoulders back. “Let’s begin by examining conditions, and then we can make an effort to make the situation more humane for our neighbors.”

Ignis looked immeasurably grateful, and Noctis felt a burst of relief that Aera was still on their side even as they got closer to the truth.

Gladio held Ignis’ hand to guide him forward, and Noctis walked a step behind Aera. Aera, stiff upper lip faintly quavering, led them to a streetcar stop. 

“I was told,” she said, loud enough to be heard and lightly enough that nobody else would pick up on the topic of conversation, “that the building in question is a hotel currently under construction, and that those being asked to stay there are being allowed to use the rooms.”

“Makes sense,” Noctis murmured, but Gladio elbowed his side.

“I’ve been working in construction. ‘Under construction’ can mean a lot of different things. How constructed is it?”

Aera bit her lip, and lowered her eyes away from Gladio’s scrutinous gaze. “That is a question I would like to have answered as well.”

The streetcar arrived a moment later, and Aera took them inside. The streetcar wasn’t overly crowded, with only a few tired-looking men in suits and a woman with two bags of groceries, but Aera looked dismayed - Noctis wondered if she expected more people, or if she’d hoped for privacy. Without speaking, Gladio and Noctis each took their spaces on the bench on either side of her, and they rode in relative quiet through the city.

They rode the streetcar for five stops, before Aera glanced at the cross-streets, pulled the string to stop the car, and motioned for the other two to stand with her. They departed the streetcar into a more desolate area of the city. Many of the blocks were in a state of demolition, boarded windows and doors or piles of rubble where homes used to be, but there were also several construction sites. The construction sites were empty, with business done for the day, and there seemed to be nearly nobody else around.

“This is one of the restoration areas,” Aera said, almost unnecessarily, before taking in their surroundings. “We had quite a few buildings destroyed by internal turmoil, but we had hoped to revitalize this part of the city to be optimized for visitors. Progress has been slow, I’m sorry to say.”

“It usually is,” Gladio assented with a shrug. “I’m more interested in the visitors we have now.” 

Aera bowed her head. “You speak with surprising clarity for a man of your station.”

“I’m a bodyguard, ma’am. I have to keep my eye on the most important things.” He clapped his hand on Noctis’ shoulder, then followed as Aera led. Noctis couldn’t stop from taking one last look around at all the desolate buildings. He wondered what Aera had hoped to see in this place. 

The building Aera led them to appeared to be relatively new construction, but it was dark inside. There was a member of the Solar Guard posted at the door, his blue cap shadowing his eyes, and as the three of them approached, he stiffened and came to attention. 

“I’m sorry,” the guard said in a firm, faintly frustrated tone, “but this building is off-limits, by order of the Solheim Council and Lady Aera-”

“Stand down,” Aera said coolly, and the guard jerked back like he’d had cold water tossed onto him. She removed her hat. “I am Lady Aera. I wish to inspect conditions.”

The guard stammered and glanced over his shoulder to the door. “M-ma’am, I - er, we weren’t expecting - I mean, I wasn’t told-! We’re not prepared for-”

“Consider this a surprise inspection.” She smiled mildly. “Please stand aside.”

The guard blanched now, eyes glassy and face a grey pall. “But, ma’am-”

“By order of Lady Aera.” She folded her hands in front of her, and Gladio stepped to her shoulder, cuffing his sleeves and rolling his shoulders back.

“And we’ll vouch for that if we have to enforce it.”

The guard didn’t say another word, but shuffled to the side of the door, and Aera threw it open and entered.

The Solar Guard members inside were stunned by the shock of light from outside, then scattered like cockroaches, and Noctis immediately understood why. After all, Aera had been told the Graelans were going to be staying in, effectively, hotel rooms. Instead, the two sides of the hotel’s ground level had been fitted with iron bars from wall to wall, all of the windows on the side walls were covered with heavy sheets, making the only light in the room the daylight from the front windows and a few low lanterns, and what appeared to be a few hundred people were crammed into each cell. There were older men on one side, some of whom seemed to still be injured, laid out on plain mats with makeshift bandages, some just slumped in place. Women and small children were contained on the other side. Noctis could faintly hear crying, and soft voices talking. Many of the adults were shackles, their wrists in cuffs that were obviously chafing in spots. 

Aera’s fists balled as she took in the dismal tableau, and she stalked over to the member of the Solar Guard wearing a captain’s badge, who was trying to shrink down against the empty reception desk.

“How dare you.” She drew herself up as tall as she could. “This is not how we treat our citizens.”

“Milady, I-”

“I am not looking for excuses.” She cut the Guard off, steadfast and sure, utterly unwilling to listen to whatever prevarication his stammering might provide. “This will not stand.” Aera stood tall, still somehow conveying her utter fury with a slight raise in her voice and a little wrinkle between her eyebrows. “I will personally see to the proper treatment of our displaced citizens until we can safely allow them to return to the city. I had hoped to protect my people, not to cage them.” She faced the other Guards. “Expect further orders from my desk, very shortly. For the time being, however, we must address the tragic truth.” Aera turned around and surveyed the two makeshift cells, all the bodies crammed within, and Noctis was interrupted from desperately searching the crowds for Prompto to see the sorrow in her eyes. “This… this cannot possibly be all of them.”

“Of course not, princess.” Aera stiffened at a sneer from within the crowd, and both Gladio and Noctis turned to see Aranea standing up, her wrists still shackled and still wearing her clothes from a few nights ago, dirty, exhausted, and haggard. “You let the Ambassador from Niflheim oversee the seizure of hundreds of refugees _from_ Gralea. What did you think would happen when you dumped a bunch of men the Niflheim authorities were looking for right in their representative’s lap?!”

Noctis’ face went cold as Aranea dragged herself through the throngs of women to the front of the cell. “We were all torn apart when you let them take us,” she spat, without so much as a nod or a bow. 

Aera stood attentive, with a stiff upper lip but worry pinching her brow. Gladio inhaled sharply as he saw the dried blood streaking Aranea’s arms and skirt. Her lip curled. 

“They took all four of my brothers - Loqi, Prompto, Verse, Aurel - and they took them with every other able-bodied man over the age of fifteen and hauled them to Six knows where, because Niflheim wants its runaway soldiers back.” She choked on what sounded like a sob, head hanging for a moment before tossing her hair back and fixing Aera with a growl. “You let them take them! You didn’t even think of how many of us would just be fed back to Niflheim’s greedy war machine to die!”

Aera bit her lip for a split second, then replied as calmly as she could, “It was never my intention. Ambassador Somnus-”

“I don’t give a shit what your intentions were!” Aranea stomped her foot. “Ambassador Somnus, huh? Probably took lines from Ambassador Izunia too, the weaselly bastard.” Aranea spat on the ground. “Weak-willed ninny of a woman, waiting for men to tell you what to do and being wishy-washy every time you have to make a decision for yourself. You were just going to try to make things _better_ for us here instead of considering what’s actually best for us, we’re your people too, damn you!” Aera flinched at that, as some of the women near Aranea began to quietly plead with her not to shout, not to anger Aera, not to send away their only hope for help, but Aranea shrugged them all off. “Aren’t you in charge here? Isn’t it your voice this city listens to? You’re the leader here, but how are you supposed to lead when you bend so easily at the words of a bunch of vultures with dicks?!”

Aera pursed her lips and swallowed. “I will not disagree with you, madam, and rest assured, I will be doing much more speaking for myself from here on.” 

Aranea’s lip curled with disgust, as if Aera were nothing but a spider trapped under a glass and she fully intended on yanking her legs off one by one. “I’ll believe it when I see it. Meanwhile, you still dance in Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum’s palm like a wind-up toy - and don’t you dare deny it, little Prince, I know your damn face!”

Noctis scowled, but replied, “I’m at Lady Aera’s mercy. I’m a refugee here, same as you.”

“Refugee, my ass.” Aranea scoffed. “You sure as hell look like an honored guest to me.” 

Noctis clenched his fists, but dammed back his anger behind them, “We were neighbors,” he replied softly. “I was no more special in this city than you until now. Believe me, if I could change that, I would.”

“Bullshit, you don’t want to change places with me.” She returned her glare to Aera. “You’re in charge here, aren’t you? You better have a damn good plan to fix this, or history will revile your name.”

“You’re not wrong.” Aera folded her hands and gripped tight. “What is your name, Miss?”

Aranea snorted and eased her weight back. “About time you asked.” She stood straight and proud. “My name is Aranea Highwind - no. Aranea Solara Aldercapt.”

Noctis’ heart dropped into his feet, and Gladio seized him by the back of his shirt and dragged him back a foot. “Wait - as in Emperor Iedolas Aldercapt?”

“The very same.” Aranea scowled at the floor at their feet. “I’m his only granddaughter. Next in line for Gralean succession - if I gave a damn about that sort of thing. I’m more interested in helping the people trying to get away from the Empire than keeping it alive.” She marched right up to the bars, as close to Noctis, Gladio, and Aera as she could come. “Let me make it clear - I blame you for this much, little Prince.” She stomped her foot, and the other women caged with her gasped and shrank back in fear. “My people were ripped from their homes, the new lives they were trying to build, that was because of you and I know it. I hate the Lucians for taking away this chance we all had for happiness! But I’m not going to keep chasing a pointless war with you.” She flashed teeth, vicious even in contrition. “I want peace for my people and for my brothers.”

“Are they?” Gladio frowned at her. “Those boys - were they really your brothers?”

“Ha!” Aranea let a furious laugh roll off her tongue. “Every Gralean infant snatched from his cradle to be fed to the Imperial meat grinder of a military is my brother, cousin, or son, and how dare you suggest I treat them as anything less!”

There were a few assents from around the room, and Noctis glanced to Aera before stepping past her. “I want to end this war too, Miss Aranea.” 

“Really.” It wasn’t a question, Aranea was still mocking him, and Noctis felt an angry little thrill down his spine.

“Sincerely. Lucis never asked for war.” Noctis squared himself, but found he still came up short next to her. Still, he tried to look earnest. “I’ll convince my father to negotiate with you to find some sort of armistice or treaty. Emperor Aldercapt is an old man, you’re Gralea’s future. Your word will be law sooner rather than later.” 

Aranea studied Noctis and Aera, clearly disbelieving, but she nodded. “You’re not wrong. Fine. We end this war.”

“Agreed.” Noctis turned to Gladio, who wore a ghost of an approving smile. Aera, too, seemed somehow relieved.

“I’m going to arrange to have every Gralean citizen that was removed from their homes kept at my own personal property for safekeeping until we’ve settled things.” She spoke louder, addressing the room: “Does anyone object to staying at one of my properties temporarily?” There were a few murmured answers, but Noctis could see that those who could stand were coming closer to the bars. I will send over my house staff to make arrangements for transport.” She marched directly up to one of the guards. “Your keys, please.” 

As the guard team mobilized to release the Graleans and send for assistance in moving them, Aera personally took the keys to release Aranea, then opened her handcuffs. “As I can no longer rely on the Ambassadors, I will trust in the two of you. Let us all go meet with my council. We must prepare for the arrivals of both the Imperial forces and Lucian reinforcement.”

“Right,” Aranea muttered, twisting her wrists, but Noctis stepped closer and wrung his hands together.

“Do you know where they took Prompto? And all the others?”

“If I knew, I’d be marching over there myself.” Aranea shook her head. “And if what I know about what they do to my boys is correct, it’s going to take more than me to save them now.” She waved a hand, brushing away Noctis’ bewildered expression. “I’ll explain later. Come on. I wanna get my people somewhere safe.” She walked past him to Aera, expression softening minutely as she watched Aera release her people from their bonds, and turned to Ignis and Gladio.

“You heard them,” he said quietly, and hung his head. “Let’s take care of Solheim first.”

Whatever needed to be done to protect Solheim was part of saving Prompto, after all. Noctis would save the entire world if it meant saving Prompto. 


	13. 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the attack from Niflheim nears, Noctis makes his stand.

**13:**

Aera’s council was a passel of crotchety old men, and while Noctis and Aranea were permitted in the room (and Ignis and Gladio were forced to wait outside, but Aera sent them to her office so Ignis could rest), Noctis couldn’t stand to listen. The argument was a constant circle - abandon the aid to Lucis to protect Solheim, how to keep the classic architecture from being destroyed by shelling, if they should preemptively surrender to prevent the fight at all, while Aera, in calm, measured tones, told them over and over there was no choice:

“We attempted to negotiate. There was no response.”

“There is no protecting the city without fighting.”

“There is no peaceful surrender without losing the city in its entirety. We need a better solution.”

Noctis and Aranea traded looks occasionally, and Aranea discreetly thumbed over her shoulder with a smirk and a whisper of, “Get a load of these guys. They ask her to be in charge, and then they don’t actually let her lead.”

The last part wasn’t actually a whisper, and the council turned towards Noctis and Aranea’s seats at the table with mixed expressions of horror, apoplexy, and surprise. Noctis noticed Aera donning a tiny smile, and hid a smirk behind his hand.

“Usually when my Dad talks, people listen. He usually puts his people above the _buildings,_ too.” Noctis stood. “Let me know when you actually want to plan for the attack.” He turned and left, departing the meeting room and all the noise, and as he closed the door, he let the facade he’d learned to use as a Prince fall away. 

He’d gotten used to being himself. Putting on the neutral mask he’d barely learned to use at home was exhausting by comparison.

He found himself pressing his face into his hands, his palm against the hollows of his eyes, as he took a few deep breaths. With even an inch of distance, Noctis could no longer see the big picture, the city at risk, the lives and livelihoods that could be destroyed, how many could die if Niflheim invaded and Solheim couldn’t muster a defense fast enough. What he did see was every person he knew that might die. 

He knew that actually fighting Niflheim meant that Prompto might have to die before Noctis had a chance to find him and save him. 

He inhaled and exhaled slowly a few times, trying to ease himself back from those heavy thoughts, then paced a few rounds. He had to focus. He had to think of what he, personally, could do. Armies marched with many feet, and the Niffs were unstoppable forces of nature, like a tidal wave sweeping through a city. Prompto would just be another ebb in that flow. Noctis needed a way to turn the tide, to change how the flow might happen. Putting more soldiers between Niflheim and victory might help, but that would just be violence meeting violence. Noctis wanted to stop the violence.

How could he, though?

“Noct,” a stern man’s voice said from nearby, and Noctis looked up to see Weskham, the old man from the post office, standing nearby, hands planted on his hips and an envelope in his hand. “Noct Corona, ain’t it? Funny how the message I got knew you’d be here.”

Noctis’ eyes went wide. “You have a message for me?”

“I do. Funny message, for sure.” He handed the envelope to Noctis. “I came from Lucis, myself, some three decades ago. Ex-Crownsguard.” He didn’t let go of the envelope when Noctis took it, holding his eyes. “I don’t know what’s going on here, young man, but you look like you have a lot of learning and growing to do, awfully quickly. I’m familiar with the shoes you have to fill, but there’s more to being where you are than how tall you stand.” He let go, still looking Noctis right in the eyes. “I’m not going to ask for special treatment. I’m going to ask you to do what’s best for the city, and not just what’s best for one or two.” 

Noctis gawked at Weskham for a second, then bowed his head. “I’m going to do whatever I can, Mr. Armaugh.” 

Weskham nodded stiffly, and stood back, arms crossed, and Noctis hurriedly opened the letter:

_“Sending thanks stop. Rebuilding defense in Lucis stop. Enemy withdrawn stop. Intelligence suggests attack on Solheim to match blitz on Lucis stop. Sending aid. Your father and I will arrive hopefully the same night you receive this stop. Anticipating a fight stop. Stay safe stop. Hope to see you soon stop. Dandelion.”_

“I hope,” Weskham murmured as Noctis folded the telegram over and tucked it back in the envelope, “Cor Leonis is well.”

Noctis cringed hard, then pressed his hand to his face. “You knew the entire time?”

“Had my suspicions. You’re the spitting image of your old man.” Weskham managed a brief, wry smile. “He went out into the world, just to see what there was to see, when he was a younger man. You didn’t get a choice in the matter, but I wonder if what you saw taught you anything.”

“I think so,” Noctis said. “I hope so.” He turned to Weskham. “Thanks for keeping things quiet for as long as you have.”

“Happy to help, my Prince.” Weskham put his hand across his chest. “Do what you can.” He turned and departed, leaving Noctis behind with his thoughts.

His father would very likely be arriving in Solheim _tonight_. The war would reach Solheim tonight. If Noctis was going to change the course of the war, it had to be now. 

Noctis turned on his heel and re-entered the meeting room, only to find the same argument had continued. Aranea looked just short of either falling asleep or being sick, exhausted and disgusted. Aera was still persisting, but she, too, was clearly wearing down. 

Noctis cleared his throat and spoke aloud: “There’s word from Lucis. The Marshall of the Crownsguard and King Regis are on their way to Solheim.” 

All of the council members were stunned to silence at that, and Aranea capitalized by cutting in: “All the arguing in the world isn’t going to change the minds of the Niflheim army. If they’ve decided to attack, they’re going to attack. However, what we need to do is get their attention.” She put her thumb to her chest. “I can get their attention. So can Fresh Prince here.” She punched Noctis’ shoulder. “What we need to do is make it very clear that me and the prince are here and we’re not interested in continuing this war. We need to tell my guys and his guys that we’re calling the whole thing off. I need my grandpa to know that he’s not going to have an heir if he doesn’t quit this shit, and we need Lucis to know not to kill all of our boys.” Then, she tweaked Noctis’ ear. “And him first.”

“Hey.” Noctis knocked her hand back, and she drew herself up.

“You got a problem with that?”

“What I have a problem with,” he snapped back, “is being pushed around. I’m fine ‘going first,’ if that’s how you want to put it.” He squared himself up to her, and though she stared him down, he didn’t flinch. “My plan is to make a statement that everyone can hear to make clear you and I are planning on an armistice. I will tell Lucis to stop hostilities. You need to send a message that you’re not going to support Niflheim’s continued conquest of the rest of the globe. And we need to convince Solheim to unite.” 

He turned to face Aera, breaking eye contact with Aranea. “Lady Aera, you need to knit the people of your city together again. However, with your permission, I will make a public statement to Solheim, and the gathering forces of Lucis and Niflheim, on your announcement system.” 

“That would be entirely acceptable.” Aera rose from her seat. “I need to speak with the Solar Guard. We will instruct them to take defensive positions.”

“Great.” Aranea sighed and pinched her brow. “There’s someone I need to get into contact with in the city, too. Is there some way I can get an escort so your dicks in uniform don’t try to cart me off again?” 

Aera nodded, hands folded at her waist. “If my own reassurances of your safety are insufficient, I’ll make arrangements for a personal escort, wherever you need to go. Noctis, is there anything you need?”

“Just time to write a statement.” Noctis dragged his fingers through his hair, back away from his eyes. “I’m going to go consult with my advisor and Shield. They’ll be happy to hear someone’s coming for us.” He stood and, without waiting for permission, went to the private elevator to Aera’s office. 

He couldn’t reach Prompto alone. However, once he’d brought the big clash to a standstill, it would give him the time he needed to mount a rescue. 

* * *

Noctis, sitting on a cushion on Aera’s floor with pen and paper in hand, watched the skies darken through the window of Aera’s office. He still recalled how dark clouds had gathered over Insomnia the day of the attack, but how the wind felt too thin for rain even if it came in gusts fast enough to portend a storm. It hadn’t been stormclouds gathering, but instead the incoming ships bringing countless soldiers.

Noctis had ignored them for as long as he could, focusing instead on the people, the ones he could save now, the ones he hopes could still be saved. Ignis and Gladio had helped him compose the words that might speak to his father’s soldiers, to his own people, to plead peace, but as he read them over and over, he couldn’t be assured it would be enough.

Aranea returned during his fifth re-read of his speech, shooing off a Solar Guard that had come into the elevator with her, and dropped herself into Aera’s chair with a weary groan. Ignis, sprawled on Aera’s chaise lounge with a cool compress over his eyes, and Gladio, seated beside it with a book in hand, didn’t seem to take notice of her, but Noctis caught her eye.

“Found what you were looking for?”

“Who. And not exactly.” She reached into her jacket and took out a few pieces of paper. “I managed to get my statement together on the streetcar, at least.”

“Who were you looking for?” Ignis asked, a shadow of his usual pointed interrogatory in his voice. Aranea snorted through her nose.

“The doctor who was treating the two younger ones.” She leaned her head back in the chair, gaze tipped over the top of the chair and out the window. “We might need her.”

“What for?” Gladio frowned. “You told us they were sick-”

“It’s the easiest way to put it. Not sure you’d believe me… well, might as well try.” She sat up a little, rolling her shoulders back. “You know how many Graleans defected? Scratch that, you don’t; it was a lot. Exhaustion from the fighting and brutal training meant a bunch of soldiers were running away, rebelling against their handlers, and basically ‘not wanting to fight anymore.’ You know.” She fixed him with a significant look. “Like Prompto.”

Noctis flinched, but he roughly asked, “He ran away, right?”

“Yeah. He told some story about how a Glaive soldier kicked his helmet off after his first battle, asked him how many people he killed. He said ‘none,’ the Glaive let him run, and he did. I found him hiding in a ditch during my sweeps of a field after a fight, scared to death and half-starved.” She sighed, and Noctis became too aware of the weight on her shoulders. “So, because so many like him were refusing to fight and running off, they came up with a new system. It’s basically hypnotism.” She tapped her head. “Messes with the head, makes you extra susceptible to taking orders, only obeying what you’re told to do. The two younger ones were subjected to it before I got to them. I was working on undoing the damage done to their brains with a doctor here.”

Ignis had sat up as Aranea was talking, and Gladio’s eyes had gone wide. “You mean they were conditioned?” Ignis asked, befuddled. “Hypnotized to be better soldiers?”

“Yeah, basically. They keep them fed on a steady diet of drugs that make them suggestible, then fill the heads with suggestions to do whatever they’re told on the field.” She clicked her tongue. “Verse and Aurel were conditioned for years to feed the war machine, more machinelike than ever.” Aranea drummed her fingers on the arms of the chair, then spun it around to look out the window. “We were just breaking through to them. It’s… gods, I hope they’re still alive.” Noctis could feel the exhaustion in her now. She inhaled slowly, then went on, “Anyway, I’m convinced that the Empire will try the same things on all the refugees they’ve reclaimed. They might have only been able to get some of the conditioning in, but we won’t know what that means until we see them. I’m not sure any of my soldiers will be able to listen to you, Prince. However, the doctor? They might listen to her.” Aranea sat forward, and Noctis saw her eyes focus on the distant dark clouds. “I spoke to the doctor, and she said her collaborator, who’s been the real source of the breakthrough, would get something together for us. They would have it tonight, but they need as much time as we can buy.” She turned to face Noctis. “Just make sure they don’t hurt my boys, alright?”

“I’ll do what I can,” Noctis said softly. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt, but we can only try to stop the fighting.”

The elevator door opened again, and Aranea stood up as Aera came in. “Conservateur,” she said smugly, but Aera didn’t even react to Aranea, instead approaching Noctis.

“We’ve heard from a representative of the Glaive’s advance forces. Lucis is approaching from the North, and reports of Niflheim ships from the West are coming in. Are you prepared?”

“Aye, Milady.” Noctis stood, adjusted his vest, and followed Aera into the elevator. Aera turned the key, and the elevator cranked them upwards. 

The very top floor of the City Hall tower was a small, pointed-eaves room lit by a broad, unobstructed window that opened onto the entire city. Noctis could see the lay of the city from the docks to the road into the mountains, and above them, the darkening clouds. The only furniture was a small desk and a microphone against a round wax screen, wired into the walls. This was Aera’s personal broadcast studio, Noctis knew, and he could imagine her there, making polite recitations and revising her words moments before she got on air. Noctis recalled her voice echoing in the street: gentle, neutral, and unobtrusive.

Noctis knew he could not be unobtrusive. He needed everyone to listen. Aera stood aside, as Noctis approached the desk with his speech in hand. “The city’s loudspeakers are turned up loud as they can be, and we’re broadcasting on all frequencies.” She smiled reassuringly. “Speak your heart, the way you spoke to me.”

He furrowed his brow, and nodded. He knew he had to be careful of what his heart said: it was still broken, after all, and wouldn’t heal until he’d saved the person he’d broken it for. “Could you give an introduction?”

“I can.” Aera picked up the microphone, and pointed to a trigger button under the head. “Just hold this when you wish to speak.” She seated herself at the desk, smoothing her dress to drape over the chair with a practiced motion, hit a small switch at the end of the table, and pressed on the microphone’s trigger.

“Good evening, Solheim. This is your Conservateur, Aera, speaking. I come bearing unfortunate news. The Niflheim Empire has brought its conflict to our doors.” She paused momentarily, as if knowing people would react and wanting to be certain they heard what she said next. “However, please be assured that we are preparing for this incursion. In addition, our new allies in Lucis are approaching the city now to aid the Solar Guard. I strongly encourage all residents and civilians to remain in your homes or to shelter where you are, in the event of dangerous activity that may take place in the streets.” She pursed her lips; she was clearly pained at having to put her people at this risk, but she had no choice. “I now ask that all who hear this message listen. Prince Noctis, the Crown Prince of Insomnia, has joined me, and has a message for the people of Solheim, Lucis, and Niflheim.” She released the trigger and stood abruptly, and Noctis moved nearly automatically to take her place. 

He took up the microphone, pushed the trigger, and raised his voice: “People of Solheim! Soldiers of Lucis! Soldiers of Niflheim! This is Noctus Lucis Caelum, the 114th of the line, speaking to you!” He paused, like he’d seen Aera do, and released the trigger to take an anxious breath, before pushing it again and reading from his statement. “I am not coming to you to bang war drums, but instead to plea for peace. Lucis and Gralea have been at war with one another for longer than me, my father, or even my father’s father were alive. I have watched the strains of this war steal my father’s youth, and I have watched my city burn under the Empire’s flames of ambition.” He bit his lip. “And I was raised my entire life never to trust a Gralean, that the people of Niflheim would only destroy me, that Lucis’ only choice was to win this war. I have lived in Solheim for only a few months, among the many peoples who call themselves Solheimers. People have come from all over the world to call Solheim home, from Lucis, Galahd, Accordo, and yes, even Gralea, and living here, I have met so many of you and realized that I am no different from any of you! Whatever our differences are, we have lived here together in peace. Whatever began this war, there can be no good in continuing it. I am committed to ending this conflict between my people and Gralea.” 

He clasped his hands, leaving the trigger depressed and hoping his audience felt his plea. “I have been privileged to walk alongside you all as a common man, and found that I could call a Gralean brother without a second thought. Whatever our conflicts, trust in one another can resolve them. We do not want to hurt another Niflheim soldier, especially knowing that so few of them fight of their own free will.” He bit his lip as he thought of Prompto being forced to hurt others - Prompto, who didn’t even try to fight back when Noctis pushed him. “We can resolve this. We need to stop perpetuating this! We are more than just soldiers and enemies! We are all humans. We are neighbors. We are brothers. We need to lift one another up instead of tearing one another down. I implore the soldiers of Lucis - defend the city of Solheim, but this is no longer a war. End this war.” 

He released the trigger and stepped back, then caught his breath. Aera patted his back, as his blood rushed through his ears, and distantly, he could hear it: the airships.

The Niflheim airships broke through the clouds just then, black zeppelins with red and white banners across the bulk of the balloon, and Noctis watched them descend at the outskirts of the city. He could just imagine the soldiers pouring out of the bellies of those balloons now, their gunmetal-black armor one with the darkness of night, like they had in Insomnia. 

Somewhere among them, Prompto was probably there, being sent out to march on the city. Noctis could even see a line of torches coming from the East, likely the Lucian army sweeping in to stop them.

“Lady Aera,” he said softly. “I’ve done all I can here. I have to go out there.” 

“Do what you must,” she told him in a hurry, and Noctis rushed for the elevator. Aranea and two Solar Guards stepped out of the elevator as he entered, and as the doors closed, he heard Aranea take up the microphone and start talking:

“HEY, GRANDPA, YOU LISTENING?! This is Aranea Solara Aldercapt, heiress to the Empire, and I’m telling you right now, this war ends here! This is not my war, and I will not make my people my soldiers!” 

The Solar Guard, however, told Aera, “We’ve gotten calls from the Lucian generals. They said they received Prince Noctis’ message and will defend the city, and King Regis himself is on his way to City Hall…”

Noctis shut his eyes. He had made his move to turn the tide. Now, he had to run into the surf himself for Prompto. Help was on the way.

* * *

Ardyn Izunia watched as the ships descended on the outskirts of the city, unable to suppress a smile. “You got your war, Somnus. I even got you that one special soldier you wanted.” He sighed and poked the little soldier in poorly-fitting armor in the back. “See if it gets you what you want. You always wanted what was never yours. Then again, so did I.” He gave the unsteady soldier a shove. “It’s all one now. Whatever the outcome, we both want the same thing in the end, and I think we’ll find we’ll get it.” He stopped at an intersection, then shoved him into the road. “Now you just go on and find that wayward little Prince, won’t you?”

And Prompto stumbled into the road, looking for something he knew and yet didn’t, for reasons he couldn’t comprehend.


	14. 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war reaches Solheim, and returns Prompto with it...

**14:**

Cindy was still hurrying to board up all the windows on the print shop, hammering nails in on plywood in hopes that even if the fighting passed them and the windows were shot out, the printing press and their equipment wouldn’t be destroyed. The skies were getting darker and darker, the nighttime pall of smog going blacker than any normal night, but Cindy knew her Pawpaw had started building this business nearly thirty years ago, had taken her in out of the goodness of his heart and raised her to run it so she could live on it too, and she didn’t want to risk losing their livelihoods because the people wearing crowns just couldn’t let themselves see eye to eye. Despite her determination, Cid was hollering from the window:

“Git in here, girl! Ain’t a one of them windows worth losin’ your life for!”

“Just comin’ now! One more!” She grabbed another sheet of plywood from behind her, as there was a swell of noise elsewhere in the city.

Screaming, shooting, crying. It sounded like it was only half a mile away. Cid hustled out from the door and grabbed her by the arm.

“This is war, y’hear? Just consider yourself lucky the siege might only last a night!” He began to yank her towards the door, but Cindy dug her heels in.

“It might only last a night, but it could be enough to ruin us forever! How’re we gonna report this if we ain’t got a shop left!”

“We’ll be lucky to be alive to remember it!” Cid stopped trying to pull on her arm, but put his hands on his hips. “I saw some of the fighting in Lucis back when the Niffs first started marchin’ in there years ago. It ain’t a pretty sight. I ain’t sayin’ don’t try to save the shop, but for Heaven’s sake, save yerself first!”

Cindy was about to raise a protest, but there was a clattering noise from nearby. Cindy spun around, and Cid shoved his way past her, taking a pistol out from the back pocket of his coveralls and put himself between her and danger. Cindy anticipated seeing the Niff army, the MT Soldiers, rounding the corner, the rows of men in masks marching in lockstep, if only so she could say she saw it once, but instead of the grim sight of a hundred men who were ready to mow down anything in sight, one lone soldier staggered around the corner from the docks. 

His armor was crooked and fit poorly, but his body seemed misshapen. Cindy spotted bandaging in the gaps, like the armor had just been shoved on over braces and splints. He walked slowly, unevenly, in more of a shamble than a march. It was a horrible sight, and Cindy froze in place seeing it. 

He didn’t see them. He didn’t try to grab the rifle on his back nor the pistol on his hip, he didn’t lunge for them. Instead, he just kept marching. Cid kept himself planted between Cindy and the MT Soldier, still shoving her and hissing a demand for her to go inside, but Cindy couldn’t tear her eyes away. Not when she could see what was under his mask as he walked by.

She knew that face.

“That’s Prompto,” she whispered, then shouted, “Hey, Prompto! Git over here!” She shoved past Cid and grabbed Prompto’s arms. He halted in place, blue eyes blank and lifeless, and though he didn’t move to attack her, he didn’t listen to her. He barely seemed to hear her. “What’d they do to you, boy?!”

Cid and Cindy had never minded Niffs. Cid thought the lines between countries were all chocobo chunk anyway, and Cindy knew that most of them were just folks like any others, coming to Solheim for a new start, just hoping to survive. She’d been so mad after the raid that sent all the Niffs away, not only because she lost half of her delivery boys, but because so many boys had been snatched out of the little places they’d carved out here over something as stupid as the dirt they’d been born on. Now, seeing a Niff she’d known to be a cheerful, harmless kid dressed up as one of their horror house soldiers was too much to bear.

“C’mere, kid!” Cindy pulled on his arms, but he was rooted to the spot. “Come here, we’ll get that stuff off’a you, we’ll get you some help!”

“En… enemy.”

Cindy gasped at that stiff, toneless rasp from under the mask, and jerked back. Prompto took another shaky step forward. 

“Enemy,” he repeated. “Find… enemy…”

Cid pulled Cindy back by her shoulders, as she had frozen, shaken as she tried to understand what could have possibly happened to that boy to bleed his personality out of him, and Prompto marched on, on, and on, unseeing, unthinking, just putting one foot in front of the other.

Cid roughly turned Cindy about and marched her inside, because now the full force of the marching armies was sounding closer and closer. Still, even as Cid locked the door and hurried them to hide in his office to wait the siege out, Cindy shook her head.

“What did they do to that boy?” She looked to Cid, even though she knew he couldn’t have any answers. Instead, he shook his head.

“Dose of truth for ya, girl.” He took a bottle of whiskey out from his desk and took a slug, huffing out alcoholic fumes, then passed it to her. “That’s all the folks in charge see their folks as in Niflheim, so it seems. Soldiers to kill the enemy.” He shook his head, as Cindy frowned into the bottle. “We might all need to look and see just who the enemy really is.”

* * *

On and on, step by step, forward march. 

His veins burned with painkillers and psychotomimetics meant to keep him pliant and suggestible. His head was just a numbing buzz, nothing but noise and a message: “FOLLOW ORDERS. KILL THE ENEMY. DEATH TO LUCIS.” 

Lucis was nothing but a set of images driven into his memory, emblems, logos, and a certain face. 

The Prince. The enemy Prince. Prince Noctis.

Noct?

Somewhere under the armor, Prompto was screaming, _no, no, I don’t want to hurt him!_

There were other voices, sounding from the speakers around him, shouting in the streets. 

_Aranea?_

They were irrelevant, the voices in his head told him, ignore everything, all other orders, all other distractions. Only follow orders.

Kill the enemy. Find your enemy and kill him.

_Find that wayward little Prince._

Soldiers in black and silver uniforms were kettling a group of MTs in a small street, immobilizing them with nets and ropes. Not for him; find the enemy.

_Prompto remembered walking down that street with Noctis, yelling to the skies as they sold newspapers from overstuffed bags, coins jingling in their pants pockets._

Soldiers wearing the Lucian colors were disarming other MT soldiers in front of a building, treating the wounded but capturing as many as they could. 

_That was Iggy’s bank. They would go to see Iggy and sell him a paper, and Prompto would tell him which market had just gotten fresh produce delivered. He was always pleased with him._

Soldiers exchanged fire in front of a construction site.

_Gladio worked there, hauling big beams around to the pulleys and welding the joints together. He always had such a big friendly smile and would tease them even from a hundred feet off the ground._

He tried to sift through the memories that didn’t feel like part of him anymore, but the noise in his head kept dissolving any remotely solid thought that passed through his mind. It all came back to the same thing: 

Kill your enemy. Find your enemy and kill him.

Kill the Prince of Lucis.

Kill Prince Noctis.

The thought possessed him like a daemon, and he couldn’t shake it. Even as his memories of him and Noctis running down this very same street haunted him, yelling the day’s headlines until their voices filled the yellow sky, the only thing he could think was _Kill Prince Noctis._

Tears soaked his cheeks in rivers.

_Kill Prince Noctis._

He remembered the flash of fear in his eyes as he’d tumbled out of the window.

_Kill the Prince of Lucis._

He could hear a voice. Aranea? But he couldn’t see her or string together a single word from the elements floating listlessly through his brain to respond.

_Kill Prince Noctis._

He traveled further from the light with every step he took through the chaotic, screaming city. He thought he might never see another friendly face. Maybe it would be nice to be right. 

* * *

Solheim was in chaos. The MTs were storming through the city, shooting out windows and torching houses with wrist-mounted torches that blazed fire. People were running from their homes for safety, carrying their children and what few belongings they could. The Solar Guard, aided by tagalong groups of Lucian soldiers in camouflage paint and dirty uniforms, were cornering and capturing MT soldiers, but it was never enough, it would never be enough, they would just keep coming.

Noctis ran through it, calling every block, “PROMPTO! CAN YOU HEAR ME?!”

Above him, on the loudspeakers, Aranea was talking to her people: “We see you in the fisheries ward; we’re coming for you. Real help is on the way, brothers. We’re going to get you out of that armor, trust me! We’re kettling them in the butchery yards, steer clear of the meatpacking district!” 

Noctis tried to decide if he should go to the places she was calling out as recaptured, as retaken, or if he should just leave the captured soldiers where they were and keep up the search for the one he’d lost.

“PROMPTO! PROMPTO!” He would scream it until he was hoarse, like he had when they were just two newsboys in the street scraping for a few extra gil, before Noctis had to be a Prince, before Prompto was forced back into being a soldier.

He passed by hordes of soldiers in broken armor being tied like animals in the places they were being cordoned off, still struggling and trying to rise and fight again even now that they were captured. He couldn’t see Prompto in their numbers, even with their faces covered by those horrible, soulless masks. 

“Prompto! Has anyone seen Prompto? I’m looking for Prompto!” He shouted it at every crowd, to no avail. The MTs were still trying to shake their bonds, to reach for and raise their rifles, those equipped with torches shooting blazing flame into the air. Like all they knew how to do anymore was fight back. 

He screamed up and down every street, trying to avoid the fighting and ducking every time he heard gunfire, but he couldn’t give in. Not until he found Prompto, not until he said what he had to say. 

“Prompto, please!” The words cracked on their way across his lips, lungs battered and throat sore. “I’m sorry! Please come out, I have to tell you I’m sorry!”

He was losing his voice, the one thing he still had control of in this situation. He wasn’t a tactician like his father, he only had rudimentary self-defense training. He wasn’t even that good at being a news barker. He was barely a Prince. He just wanted his friend back.

His strength finally gave out on him, his legs pulsing and pounding under him like the muscles were an engine running out of fuel, chest burning with every ragged breath, exhaustion threatening to overwhelm him. He put his hands on his knees, bending at the waist to catch his breath before he went on. He could feel how hopeless it was, and teetered on the black precipice of surrender. 

He glanced up, and realized that somehow, he had ended up in front of the tenement the two of them had shared. If he looked high enough, he would see the balconies where they had first held hands, where Noctis had first dared to claim that first kiss. He stood in the shadow of that sweet memory. However, if he looked down, he would surely see a crater where Prompto had landed, destroying part of Noctis’ world with it - by Noctis’ own self-destructive hand.

“Prompto,” he wheezed, almost certain there was no Prompto left to hear him, no forgiveness to be had, “Prompto, I’m so sorry.”

There was a clattering noise in front of him. Staggered footbeats, weak and wobbly. Noctis lifted his head and saw an MT soldier coming towards him, alone. Noctis took a step back, eyes wide, as it stumbled a few steps closer.

Then, he realized something was fundamentally _wrong_ with this soldier.

He was small, for one. Not tiny, but hardly larger than Noctis, and the MT soldiers always stood larger than life to him. His armor seemed too large, the breastplate crooked, the mask bigger than his head. He was hobbled, his gait uneven and stilted. Noctis could hear him breathing: wheezing, every breath a conscious effort so desperate it made Noctis’ gut ache.

The mask slid, and Noctis saw a familiar lick of blond hair under the helmet.

“Prompto?” Noctis moved towards him. Prompto took another unsteady, collapsing step, gaze unfocused. Something was _wrong_ , Noctis knew, _something_ was broken in Prompto. Of course it was. He’d fallen so far. How was he on his feet? “Prompto,” he said, louder this time, trying to summon an ounce of the bravado he’d had on the loudspeaker. “Prompto, it’s me. I’m so sorry I hurt you, but I’m here to help.” He laced his fingers in plea. “Please just talk to me, tell me what’s wrong, where you’re hurt.” 

Prompto didn’t answer, though his steps slowed. Had Prompto heard him, or was his battered body just giving out? Noctis didn’t want to know the answer; he just wanted to help Prompto now.

“Can I-” He crept closer, barely daring to lift his feet. “Can I take the armor off of you? Please let me take the armor off.”

Still, no answer. Prompto’s visible eye was watching him now, and Noctis noticed a limp, weak hand grab at the pistol on his hip. He couldn’t quite get his fingers around it. Noctis winced, but couldn’t turn his back on him now.

“You don’t need that. I promise, I’m only here to help, I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.” A lump rose into his throat. “I just want to take you home. I’ll take you someplace safe and it can be home for you now. Remember what I told you? Anywhere that’s home for me is home for you.” Prompto blinked slowly, and Noctis held his hands out. “I’ll take you home. Lucis, or wherever you want to live. You’ll be taken care of, I’ll make sure you never hurt or want for anything ever again!” 

Noctis heard a hitched sob from under the mask - was he in pain? Was he upset? Noctis couldn’t tell what Prompto was thinking, his warm-hearted beloved made cold under heartless, unkind metal armor and Noctis just wanted to see him smile again. 

“Please,” he rasped, “Are you mad at me? Do you hate me? You can hurt me back if you want, it’s fine! It’s what I’d deserve, right?” He held his hands out, showing they were empty. “I’m unarmed, I’m alone. You can do whatever you want! If that’ll convince you! I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you when I should have! I’m sorry I hurt you!” He dropped to his knees. “But please believe me now when I say I just want to make things right! I just want to be with you, at your side! I’ve never been happier than when you and I were together, sharing the same streets and sky.” He bowed his head. “Please.”

Finally, finally, Prompto responded - his visible eye went wide, pained, and he rushed towards Noctis, but there was a report from behind. A pistol, a shot fired.

And Prompto collapsed, blood pouring from his side.

Noctis whipped his neck around, only to see Somnus, a lone shadow against a streetlight, holding the smoking gun. He clicked his tongue a few times as he strode towards them. 

“Pity, little Prince. I could have arranged for the two of you to be buried together if you’d just died quietly in the fighting.” He pointed the gun at Noctis. “But really, I think I’ll enjoy ending the line of Lucis myself.”


	15. 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Kings of Lucis face the conflict, each in their own way, and while a surprise benefactor has a solution to one problem, Noctis is on his own as he faces Somnus.

**15:**

The doors to City Hall swung wide, and a great voice rose above the clamoring masses screaming in the lobby: “MAKE WAY FOR THE KING OF LUCIS!”

For a second, every body in that buzzing hive of chaos stilled, as two men in Glaive uniform held the doors, and three men entered. 

First, Cor Leonis, Marshal of the Crownsguard, his boots polished but his uniform missing a button, strode in, his shoulders back, tall and proud. Then, Clarus Amicitia, in his robe and cloak, with all the dignity of his station but five o’clock shadow and exhaustion in his face. Finally, King Regis, in the raiment of a king but leaning heavily on his cane, entered at the back of the train. 

The crowds silently parted as the king, made grey in the beard by years of war and months of sickness, hobbled through the lobby. The private elevator to Aera’s office slid open, and Gladio rushed out and towards his father. 

“Father!” He halted in place in front of him, reached for him but aborted the motion, then jerked himself into a military salute. “S-sir.”

“At ease.” Clarus saluted Gladio, then seized him by the shoulder and dragged him into a hug. “Son.”

“Dad,” Gladio rasped, shivering against his father’s chest. Cor glanced at him, and cracked a small smile.

“I see Regis isn’t the only one missing his boy.” He turned back around as Ignis approached from the elevator on Aera’s arm. “Ignis, whatever happened?” He furrowed his brow as Ignis came closer. Ignis shook his head.

“Apologies - I was attacked during an unfortunate upheaval in the city.” He brushed at his eyes. “I believe my vision will return, but it will take time and healing.”

“Dear boy,” King Regis said as he came closer, his gait slowed by his cane. “I’m so sorry for the hardships the three of you have faced while here. Rest assured, you will be made whole, with honor, and all the pride Insomnia has to offer.” 

“I don’t need honors,” Ignis replied, even and calm. “I merely wish to return home, to Insomnia.”

Clarus and Gladio were quietly talking, Gladio asking about his sister and their household staff and if their family home still stood, but Regis walked past him to take Ignis by the shoulder. 

“I wish to grant you that which you have earned, my boy.” He patted his cheek. “But I must ask, wherever is my son?”

“Prince Noctis…” Ignis swallowed, as Gladio turned back around. Ignis’ shoulders dropped. “I fear he is searching the city for a friend he lost.” 

King Regis straightened up with surprise, eyebrows raised. “Alone? Gladiolus, why did you not-”

“He ran, sir,” Gladio murmured, eyes falling in shame. “He took the elevator out and didn’t tell us where he was going.”

“It was my mistake,” Aera interrupted softly, “not to tell him to take an escort. Especially given that we may have more enemies in the city than the Niflheim army.”

“Whatever do you mean, my dear?” Regis approached her. “Forgive me; you are the Conservateur, correct?”

“Conservateur Aera Mirus Fleuret, at your service.” Aranea put an arm across her chest and bowed. “Your son was doing what he could to assist me - I can only hope you heard him on the radio.”

“I did.” King Regis’ eyes crinkled at the edges with mirth. “I’m tremendously proud of him, but -" his expression sobered momentarily- “you let him go into the city? Alone?”

“In my defense, sir,” Gladio muttered, “you tell him ‘no’ when he’s made his mind up. He slipped past us.” 

“I’ll send out a search party the moment I have manpower,” Aera offered, hands still folded tight, but Regis raised a hand, mouth split in an exhausted smile.

“No need, Milady. My wayward son is Lucis’ responsibility. We will take care of our own house.” He turned to Cor. “Marshal, if you and Gladiolus kindly could.”

“Sir.” Gladio broke away from his father and saluted, then glanced back at him. “It’s my job, Dad.” 

“Sir.” Cor shook his head. “We’ll find him.” With that, the two of them departed, running back out the door, and Regis returned his attention to Aera and Ignis.

“I may need to ask you to deal with Ignis’ assailant, as well.” Aera put her hand on his shoulder. “He is an ambassador to Solheim, but-”

“Ambassador Izunia, of Niflheim.” Ignis faced King Regis. “Please, sir, I believe that is a name I know.”

“I believe it may be.” Regis rubbed his jaw. “My cousin married a young widow with a son by that name. He was a quiet boy, nowhere near as ambitious as his younger half-brother-”

Aera gasped. “They’re brothers?!”

Regis nodded, brow furrowing. “They never mentioned it?”

“Ever were they contentious and competitive, but I imagined it was merely due to the rivalry between the countries they represented.”

Regis glanced between Ignis and Aera, as Clarus drew closer to their huddle. “Sir,” he murmured, “perhaps we should discuss this privately.”

“No, we are waiting for one more.” Regis shook his head, then returned his attention to Aera. “I had hoped Somnus would be of aid to Noctis. He did help make the initial connection to you, didn’t he?”

“He did, such is true,” Ignis replied, “but his actions suggest he’s working his own agenda rather than assisting with ours.”

Regis’ brow knit up with worry. “Oh.” He grasped weakly out for Clarus’ shoulder. “I had feared, once, but never thought…”

“He was ambitious, as a lad,” Clarus muttered. “Ten years Noctis’ senior, active and enthusiastic. Noctis took very ill as a boy, and we had discussed with him the chance that he may be asked to take the throne should Noctis have been made unable to ascend, as Regis was widowed and had not sought another wife.” He turned his gaze towards Regis, who kept his gaze low.

“He never seemed especially happy that Noctis recovered and grew strong.” Regis shook his head. “He had clearly been excited at the prospect, swore fealty, swore to do well by Lucis, but when Noctis recovered, he became withdrawn upon our visits. When he accepted the position of ambassador, I had hoped it would sate his ambitions, but I take it that was not the case.”

“We have reason to believe that he coordinated certain elements of the raid with Ambassador Izunia.” Aera clasped her hands tight. “He convinced me to allow Izunia to segregate our Gralean citizens, under guise of protecting them and preventing insurrection within the city, but instead allowing the Niflheim authorities to reclaim their escaped or defected soldiers. What’s worse, they’ve all been pressed into service with a combination of intoxicants and suggestive psychology.”

Regis covered his mouth with a gloved hand. “I see. Marshal Leonis had often told me that the MT Soldiers of Niflheim were rarely willing warriors, but I had no idea it was forced service, as such.”

“Lady Aranea Solara Aldercapt, who fled to Solheim to escape her grandfather and to pursue certain other ends, may be able to elucidate.” Ignis glanced to the elevator, and Regis bowed his head.

“It would be my utmost honor to meet with the lady. However, there is someone I must meet first.” Regis turned back towards the door. “We were contacted by someone claiming to be an anonymous friend, who said they may have the secret to ending the attack if we grant them access to Solheim’s City Hall.”

“We wish to at least meet them,” Clarus added, gruff but conciliatory. “If this person is a friend, we will accept their help. If they are the enemy, we are prepared to defend ourselves.” 

It was precisely then that City Hall’s door opened wide, and a woman in a navy dress, with hair unearthly black and silken swaying past her waist, carrying a suitcase and a newspaper, strode towards Regis and through the crowd as if everyone around her were as insubstantial as ghosts. Clarus saw her first, and put himself between Regis and the woman. However, she stopped at a short distance and bowed.

“Your Majesty, Milady.” She spoke with an even, unwavering confidence. “I come at the behest of my patron and of Lady Aranea Solara Aldercapt, and for his Majesty’s benefit. I bear a gift for Lady Aranea.” She bowed again, offering the suitcase at arm’s length. “I dare not linger, but Lady Aranea will know what to do with this.”

Aera accepted the suitcase, but the woman in navy turned heel the moment her parcel was out of her hands. “Wait, can you not explain?”

“I fear I lack the grace of time.” The woman in navy barely paused her step, her newspaper still held tight in her grip. “I have received word this evening that a certain ship has come in. Tarry not in implementing the solution, but rest assured that further aid is en route.”

Aera and Regis watched with surprise as the woman left as quickly as she’d come, as Ignis took the case from Aera’s fair hands. He grasped for the clasps and opened it, brow furrowing as he touched its contents. He promptly turned. 

“I understand. Permit me to take this to Lady Aranea, your Majesty.” He bowed and hurried for the elevator, confident in his stride despite his disability, and Regis and Aera, with only a shared look, followed him. 

It seemed the cure was at hand, even if they didn’t understand the nature of the medicine. There were too many questions yet to be answered, but the woman in navy was correct. Time to wait for explanations was a luxury they didn’t yet have. 

* * *

Prompto was bleeding fast, too fast, blood pooling under his armor. Noctis knew nothing of medicine, nor life or death, but he knew that Prompto was bleeding too much for him to be able to do anything about it. He dove down to his side, yanked his kerchief from his pocket, and pressed it over the wound as hard as he could.

“Stay with me,” he pleaded. “I’ll get you up, we’ll get help, we-”

“Why bother?” Noctis flinched - Somnus was still here, damn the Six. Somnus strolled closer, still pointing his pistol at Prompto. “He’s an enemy soldier. He would have killed you, had I not intervened.”

“He’s not just an enemy, he’s Prompto!” Noctis found venom on his tongue, but clutched Prompto closer. Prompto’s eyes were on him, filled with so much pain, and Noctis could see him clenching his jaw. “He’s friendly! He’s nice! He likes radio dramas and looking at photographs in the newspapers he sells, his sister loves him, there’s nobody like him!”

“He’s just another Gralean, like so many others.” Somnus sneered. “Did you truly think that all Graleans were faceless, nameless drones that did nothing but kill? They were all people, but you were taught to fear and hate them because they were the enemy, right? We’ve all been taught who our enemies are.” He put his hands on his hips. “And that’s just the problem, is it not? We have gone on like this, in pointless squabbles, blood wars and petty disputes, for ages untold! Brother against brother, man against man, and for what?” Somnus tossed his head back. “We forget that our enemies are human after so long, killing them as if they are no more than daemons and seeing each reprisal as if they were killing our gods! I tell you, I grew tired of these pointless wars. Brother against brother, man against man.” Somnus crouched and prodded Noctis in the forehead. 

Noctis curled inwards, but couldn’t let go of Prompto, didn’t dare move without being able to take him, too, and endured Somnus’ mockery as he tried to form a plan. “I once envied you, little Prince. By a fluke of birth order, your father preceded mine, and your birth superceded any claim my lineage had to the throne. Fate was even less kind to my brother, though - married into royalty, but never allowed to take the name by a fluke of blood! My dear older brother became tired of Lucis, claiming my boasting drove him mad, and sought to elevate himself in the heart of Lucis’ enemy.” He snorted. “The fool. Niflheim and Lucis are going the same direction - the way Solheim went a century ago. It’s time to end these wars, and the only way these wars will end is by burning these wretched, diseased kingdoms to the ground.”

“It doesn’t have to end in mutual destruction,” Noctis argued back, “wars can end if their leaders want them to-”

“And do they?” Somnus challenged, leaning closer. “Does the Emperor want to give up his pursuit of an Empire that the light always touches? Does your father want to sacrifice his stake in his ancestral holdings in pursuit of some miserable compromise? Face it, Niflheim and Lucis have warred since before the fall of Solheim! Those societies are built on the enterprise of war.” He snapped his fingers in front of Noctis’ nose. “Take away the war and you’ll take away what builds their society! After all, look how quickly the Lucians in this very city turned on their neighbors.” 

“I’ll change that,” Noctis charged, and he grasped at Prompto’s form in his arms. “I’ll show everyone from Lucis that we’re all humans. Brothers. Family. The same people, under the same stars. I will make a world where we will do whatever we can for each other.” 

He pressed his palm into the wound - The blood wasn’t slowing, and Prompto was breathing heavily through his panic. _Gods_ , Noctis needed to get him help! “If you’re not here to help me, stand aside!” 

“I’m here to help you understand why your pursuit is foolish.” Somnus shook his head. “You may want it, but you’ll never change people still freshly wounded. Best to euthanize them quickly than watch them bleed out, don’t you think?” 

He pointed his gun at Prompto’s head, but Noctis swept his arm up and knocked the gun out of his hand. Somnus chased his weapon, and Noctis worked Prompto’s arm up over his shoulder, keeping one hand pressed over his wound, and got Prompto to his feet.

“I changed,” he declared, low and proud even as he shrugged off the weight of being the Lucian Prince at war with Niflheim. “You hear that, Prompto?” He bowed his head to meet his friend’s deadened eyes. “I’ll never call you a Niff again, I just care about you-”

Somnus scoffed as he picked up his weapon, and as Noctis took the first few haggard steps away from him. “That thing isn’t even human anymore. And Lucians, for that matter, are all sheep. It’s pointless! You’re ambitious, like me - you should want this world to end as it is and begin again!"

“No.” Noctis kept walking. Prompto was dead-weight, barely even trying to support himself, but they were moving, at least a little. “There are too many people here now. If I have to walk all the way around the world and shake a million hands, I will convince people to want peace. Peace is the only answer.”

Noctis walked past Somnus, cognizant of his heavy glare. He knew that he wouldn’t end Somnus’ ambitions like this, but he could survive him, outmaneuver him, and make a world where he could watch two kingdoms fall and stand tall in the rubble impossible. 

But then, Somnus fired, and Noctis suddenly couldn’t feel his legs. 

His limbs went limp under him, and the scream was ripped out of him all at once. The panic erupted through him as the pain and numbness confused his every sense - blood-curdling pain, _his back, he shot him in the back,_ his legs were gone, were they just gone, why couldn’t he walk, why couldn’t he move?! 

Prompto had collapsed alongside him, and his mask tumbled off when he hit the ground. His eyes were wide, and Noctis could see fear overtaking him, could feel his broken body shaking, and he couldn’t let Prompto, already devastated, lie there helpless and afraid.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he told Prompto, hoarse and whispering, barely able to make himself heard over the chaos of the street, but unable to do anything, to change anything. “I’m right here, Prompto, we’re gonna be okay-”

Somnus was coming closer. Noctis could hear him.

“Idiot,” he muttered. “Perhaps I’ll be King of Lucis after all.”

Prompto sat upright, suddenly possessed of strength anew. Noctis saw something coming into his eyes. He yanked a short knife, already red with his own blood, from his waist, and staggered towards Somnus. Noctis twisted himself around, watching with horror as Somnus aimed the gun at him. 

Somnus fired, but Prompto swayed right past it - unearthly quick, unnaturally so. Somnus fired again, but Prompto seemed to twist around every shot, driven to his purpose. 

“Kill the Prince of Lucis,” he rasped, and lunged at Somnus with his knife. 

Somnus twisted past his jab, but Prompto pivoted around, pulled a pistol in one fluid motion, and shot Somnus through the neck. Somnus released a gurgle, blood pouring from the wound, but he collapsed to a heap in an instant. Prompto kept firing, the flash of the gun’s chamber illuminating his eyes and the tear tracks streaming down his face, and he mindlessly shot into Somnus’ corpse until the chamber clicked empty. 

He kept pulling the trigger as his legs gave out, and he went down onto the stones again. He was still bleeding, his armor was red all down his left side. Noctis couldn’t let him lie there alone. 

His legs were numb, dead, and the pain raced up his spine like venom and fire. However, he had arms, and love burning in his breast, so he pulled himself forward in a crawl, dragging himself to Prompto’s side. 

“Prompto?” Prompto didn’t answer him, chest folding over his legs, his gun still in his hand with his arms limp at his sides. “Hey, Prompto, I’m here. I’m here with you, okay?” He managed to reach Prompto and pushed himself onto his arms. “Prompto, please talk to me.” He tugged his sleeve. 

Prompto was still silently crying, jaw slack, not blinking. Noctis faintly recognized that this might be his last chance: “I’m so sorry. I love you, I-” He choked on the sentiment, but forced it out to make sure it didn’t die in his breast - “I love you, I never meant to hurt you.”

“We’re…” Noctis looked up as Prompto rattled the word out, and slowly lifted his hand, and his gun with it. “We’re… enemies… right? I’m… your… enemy.” He put his pistol to his own head. 

Noctis tried and failed to grab his hand, crying out, “Prompto, no!” 

Before Noctis could do anything, there was a strange noise, senseless music and song from the loudspeakers. Prompto dropped his gun and fell unconscious, and all the other noises around them stopped at once.

Everything stopped.


	16. 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the mysterious doctor's cure halts the fighting and the curtain drops on the stage of war, what will become of Noctis and Prompto?

**16:**

Aranea watched the record on the turntable as it played into the loudspeaker system, lips pursed as the strange music caterwauled from every speaker and radio in the city. Aera and Regis stood together at the window, watching as the flashes of gunfire in the street all began to stop at once.

“It’s a miracle,” Aera whispered, and Aranea clicked her tongue.

“It’s not a miracle. The MTs are created with aural hypnotism. You know, by drugging them up really good and telling them what to do, and there’s something in the recordings they use that’s supposed to mess with the brainwaves.” She lifted a shoulder. “Brains are all electric, and sounds are just electric waves, so you can apparently really mess with the brain if you use the right noises. I’ve been working with Doc Gentiana on a way to, you know, fix it.” She glanced up, out the window. “Aurel and Verse were both put through it. She’s been testing different stuff out on them, trying to see if we can get through the conditioning with different noises. She’s been working with someone else who’s been studying the MTs and getting drips of information from the inside, and they’ve apparently been rushing to make a complete cure.”

All of a sudden, the sky was bright, as if the sun had risen in the middle of the night and blasted back the darkness. A massive white ship, lit up all over with bright lights and moonlight, sailed into the harbor, and Aranea smirked. 

“And that’ll be Doctor Gentiana’s partner. Looks like Tenebrae came through.”

Even from here, they could hear the strange music playing from the galleon in the harbor as it docked and cast anchors. It harmonized with the music playing from the record player, creating a more sensible sound. 

“Tenebrae sent aid?” Regis asked, disbelief in his eyes. “King Ravus insisted he had to remain neutral, given their proximity to Gralea-”

“King Ravus can do whatever he wants.” Aranea rolled her eyes. “He can’t do a damn thing to stop Lady Lunafreya.”

The galleon in the harbor began to unload, the docks flooded with a mass of people in white carrying bright torches. Aranea stood back.

“Thanks for holding ‘em off, Noct.” She smiled to herself. “Let’s get that whole ‘peace between nations’ thing rolling.”

* * *

Prompto had gone limp at the sound of the strange music, and slumped into a stupor when the music swelled and became louder. His gun fell from his hands, his whole body collapsed into a heap, but his face relaxed.

He was at peace. That was enough for Noctis. Prompto was at peace.

Noctis could hear the fighting and gunfire stop, the sounds of conflict and rage ending all at once. He could see people now, strange soldiers in white uniforms he didn’t recognize. He didn’t know what else could happen tonight, as he watched them all pass by with their torches in their hands, fanning out through the city from the docks.

Then, two of them approached him. He tried to pull closer to Prompto, not sure if they were going to protect him or capture him, or if they just wanted to end Prompto. He wouldn’t let that happen. 

Then, Noctis spotted the insignia of a caduceus around a sylleblossom on their coats and on the white bags they were carrying - the symbol of the Healers. 

“Over here, two young men, grievously injured!”

More people in white, men and women wearing masks over their faces, surrounded them. Noctis tried to muster a protest as some of the doctors moved him away from Prompto, and a few more moved Prompto so they could lay him flat and begin removing his armor.

Then, a young woman with long blonde hair plaited across her brow like a crown, her smile disguised by her mask but plain in her eyes, appeared above him, kneeling in front of his prone chin. 

“You must be the paper boys. Miss Gentiana told me of you.” Her eyes crinkled up at the edges. “I hadn’t expected that we would meet like this, Prince Noctis. It’s a pleasure. I am Lady Lunafreya, of Tenebrae.”

“L-Lady Lunafreya?” Noctis’ eyes went wide - he knew her name. The younger sister of the sitting King of Tenebrae - but who preferred to lead the nation as a doctor rather than as a princess. 

“I am, yes. I heard your speech on the radio; consider me preemptively impressed. Please forgive me, there will be time for talk later.” She looked to the other healers surrounding them. “Which of them is in greater danger?”

“Prince Noctis is injured badly, but this young man has lost a significant amount of blood.” 

“Very well then. Let’s prepare to move them. Sedate them both. Do we have blood replacement?” 

She turned and began to treat Prompto, as Noctis felt pressure on his back and chest. Someone was wrapping his wounds, as Lunafreya personally helped to rig a rubber tube from a fabric pouch to a thin syringe and pressed it into Prompto’s arm. Lunafreya held the pouch steady, smiling the entire time. She returned her attention to Noctis, just as someone knelt on his left side. 

“You’ve done so well, Prince Noctis. Thank you. Why don’t you rest a while? We’ll take it from here.”

There was an eerie chill in Noctis’ arm, as more and more medics began to surround them, their shadows blocking the light. He could see some of them preparing to move Prompto onto a gurney, and felt relief sink onto him like a heavy blanket. They were going to be okay. They were going to help Prompto.

Perhaps, he thought, as the cold feeling in his veins began to make his head fuzzy, he could rest for now.

* * *

The next thing Noctis knew, he was somewhere bright, warm, and comfortable. He was in a bed - he could feel the mattress under his shoulder blades, was aware he was laying down - but he wasn’t certain how he had arrived there. It wasn’t his bedroll in the tenement, nor his bedroom in Lucis. This was neither a nightmare nor a dream, and Noctis could only wonder just what was going on.

He was very aware of one thing - a hand in his. He turned his head slowly, and saw his father, King Regis, at his side.

More began to come into view - another bed, with Prompto in it. Ignis was seated at Prompto’s side, and Gladio was standing behind Regis with his father. He realized someone was speaking, and recognized Lady Aera’s voice.

“... We had more casualties than fatalities, fortunately. However, even my own council cannot disagree with the results. King Ravus made a statement that his sister’s aid is not something he can withhold against her will, and not to associate her actions with his allegiances. He did send word privately, your Majesty, to request you protect her while she is not under his supervision.”

“Really,” Lunafreya said from nearby - standing nearer to Aranea, at the head of Prompto’s bed. “He acts as if we are still children.”

“We captured approximately two thousand Niflheim soldiers, which we estimate to compromise ninety-five percent of the force that was sent into the city. We discovered that Somnus Lucis Caelum died during the attack. His bodyguard has agreed to cooperate in the search for his brother, Ambassador Ardyn Izunia, who apparently was able to escape the city, and provided more information about their scheme to overturn Solheim, either for the purposes of being annexed by Gralea or to topple the current leadership and allow an opening for Somnus to ascend.” Aera cleared her throat. “Emperor Iedolas Aldercapt has sent a telegram, demanding Solheim’s surrender, the return of his granddaughter, and that Lucis turn over the so-called infernal devices that crippled his army, as that violates the rules of warfare.”

“I’ll respectfully disagree,” Regis murmured. 

“I’ll disrespectfully disagree,” Aranea added, smirking. Her expression cooled when she turned to Lunafreya. “So, what’s gonna happen to all the soldiers you captured?” 

“With your permission, Lady Aranea,” Lunafreya paused to give a quick curtsy, “I will return with them to Tenebrae. I’ve set up sanitariums to specialize in the recovery and rehabilitation of the Mentally Tailored Soldiers. I will personally oversee their treatment, after which the young men forced into that armor will be given a chance to decide their own fates.”

Aranea gave a somber, sober nod, then reached down and threaded her fingers into Prompto’s hair. “Him, too?”

“I would welcome him, of course.” Lunafreya turned her gaze down towards Prompto, prone in the bed and as pale as a ghost, freckles washed out against paper-white skin. “However, his injuries are grievous, and his recovery will take a significant amount of time. He’ll need to be put in hospital first-”

“N-no.” Noctis found the strength to speak all of a sudden, and in an instant, all eyes were on him.

“Noct!” King Regis was on his knees all at once, clutching Noctis’ hand tight and putting his palm on his chest. “Thank the Six, you’re still with us-”

“I promised!” He tried to reach for Prompto, but his arms were so weak, he could barely lift his hand. “I told him I’d take care of him. I promised!”

“Noctis,” Regis said, his hand closing over Noctis’ heart. “Listen to me, son; you were hurt very badly last night-”

Noctis tried to stand, but he found himself too heavy, and his legs refused to move. He couldn’t even feel them, and his eyes went wide. “Why - why can’t I move? Why can’t I walk?”

Lunafreya circled around to kneel down between the two beds so she could meet Noctis’ eyes. “You were struck in a very sensitive spot in your spine.” She took his hand. “We removed the bullet, but significant damage was done. We’ve done what we can to repair it, and with continued care you should be able to recover, but it will take some time before you will be able to walk again.” She looked over to Regis. “My team will perform additional surgeries once the initial wound is healed and once we have insured there is no infection, but I must tell you both, it may be too risky for you to return to Lucis as yet.”

“Of course, whatever must be, will be.” Regis lifted himself up so Noctis could see his face. “The trip by boat would likely be too treacherous for Noctis, and for this young man.” Regis indicated Prompto with a look, smiling broadly. “I see you made a friend while you were helping to aid Lucis.”

“I love him, he’s important to me.” He swallowed hard, heat dancing in his cheeks. “Like… like a brother, or closer.” Noctis grabbed Regis’ hand. “Please, can we make sure they take care of him, too? Please save him.”

“If he’s a brother to you, then he’s a son to me.” Regis smiled broadly, and faced Aera. “I thank you for aiding my son, Conservateur. I fear we must impose on your generosity and charity a bit longer, and ask that you permit us to remain within Solheim for a little longer.”

“It’s no trouble whatsoever.” Aera seemed entirely unsurprised. “I’ll happily offer space in some of my family’s property at the city’s edge. It’s peaceful there, I promise; whatever business the Crown of Lucis requires can easily be done there, and I’ll aid you in any way I can.”

“I’m grateful, Lady Aera. Perhaps we should take this conversation elsewhere for the moment.” 

Regis stood and bowed at the waist, and Noctis twisted around to face Prompto again. Prompto was still and motionless, he barely seemed to breathe, but his eye was open just a sliver. Noctis reached past Lunafreya to grab the edge of his bed.

“I’m here, Prompto.” He saw Lunafreya smile as she stood and retreated to the edge of the room, and Noctis could feel the others withdrawing to give him room. “There’s gonna be peace, one way or another.” 

“We’ll stay with you too, Noct,” Ignis said from above him, and Noctis tilted his head back to see Ignis had remained. He winked one eye open - the iris was unfocused but Noctis could tell he was looking at him. Gladio pulled a chair around and planted it between them.

“Our dads can catch us up later. How about I put on a radio drama for you kids?” He smiled wryly and turned a knob on the radio on the bedside table, and Ignis sat down on the end of the bed, relaxing again.

For now, if nothing else, there was peace.

* * *

_“Good afternoon, Solheim. This is your Conservateur Aera speaking.”_

Noctis turned his head towards the radio in the room as the music that had been playing transitioned into a crackling news report. Gladio had turned one of Aera’s ballrooms into a fitness room, setting up parallel bars and exercise equipment, dumbbells and elastic bands, and had been supervising Noctis’ recovery. Even now, he clicked his tongue as Noctis’ hands slipped on the parallel bars he was using to support himself.

“One more rotation, Noct. You’ll never get the strength back in your feet if you don’t keep it up.” Gladio crossed his arms, still wearing an affectionate smile as Noctis grumbled and forced himself to turn around on the bars, then walk carefully down between them, keeping his body upright by gripping the bars and bracing himself through the core. His legs were just starting to be able to support his weight again, but only for a few minutes at a time. 

_“I am proud to announce,”_ Aera said, as mild, neutral, and soothing, as ever, _“That Lucis has pushed the last armies from its outlying territories, and its neighbors, Cleigne, Duscae, and Leide are fortifying against Niflheim’s retreat. We welcome the news of a possible ceasefire, as Lucis and its allies are calling for a formal armistice and surrender parlay to begin.”_

Noctis took a few more uneven steps forward, using the bars to keep himself upright, and came to a sudden halt when he felt his elbows and knees wobble, fit to give out. 

“Gladio, I’m done.”

Gladio approached, then pulled Noctis’ wheelchair from the side of the room and rolled it over to the bars. “Good job. You actually managed two more walks today.” He smiled wryly. “Never thought you had it in ya.” 

“I like surprising you,” Noctis chuckled weakly as he settled himself into the chair. 

It had been a few difficult months: surgeries, exercising to rebuild his muscles, and watching the war unfold in Insomnia and Lucis from Aera’s country house. It wasn’t home in Insomnia (as quiet and lonely, if familiar, that could be), nor was it the intimate peace of the tenement (with all of its flaws), but Noctis was used to it. He enjoyed wheeling himself around the main level of the home, looking at old paintings Aera’s family had preserved from before the fall of Solheim and tributes to the city’s former glory. He liked her gardens, far from the hustle and bustle of the city where Noctis had learned so much. It was a good place for reflection and recovery after everything. Noctis knew that life here was just an in-between, a place to be while waiting for him to be strong enough to take the next step on his own. 

He also knew he wasn’t the only one waiting to regain his strength. 

Gladio pushed him to the door, where Ignis waited for him. Ignis’ eyes were open, and he smiled to see Noctis. “My, you’re flushed and red. I see you’ve been working hard.”

“Been trying.” Noctis took control of his own wheels from Gladio and pushed himself into the hallway. “I heard Aera on the news, do you have any more information about the end of the war?”

“It’s not over until it’s over,” Ignis replied with mild amusement, as the two of them traveled down the hallway at a steady pace, Noctis turning his wheels and Ignis strolling at his side. “But yes, we’ve routed out the last known stronghold of Niflheim’s soldiers, and our forces have observed many remaining soldiers retreating on foot.” Ignis checked his watch as they rounded the corner. “It would seem that our efforts to reclaim the homeland are succeeding, particularly with the aid of Lady Lunafreya’s Medical Auxiliaries, and we’ve actually begun reconstruction efforts in Insomnia. King Regis intends to sail for Lucis once the port in Galdin Quay has been secured, though, and he will tell you the same, he does not expect you to accompany him at this time. That will need to be a conversation you have with him.” 

“Yeah, I’ll talk to him later, I know we have a lunch appointment scheduled in an hour or so.” Noctis hadn’t missed having to fit himself into his father’s schedule, but he had very much missed his father. He also saw that his father worked himself raw keeping up with the war effort, and still made time for him every day around it. He didn’t like watching his father overworking himself, helpless to relieve him, but he enjoyed having his father’s affection. 

Besides, he had his own worries. His father had encouraged him to consider his future and what was important to him. 

“What are the next steps?” Noctis asked, as they reached a lift and Noctis depressed the button to summon it. Ignis hummed.

“Lady Aera and Lady Lunafreya have both sent treatises to Emperor Aldercapt, counseling him to armistice, and Aranea has entreated her grandfather that she’s already at the negotiating table.” Ignis smiled wryly as he stepped into the elevator and waited for Noctis to roll in. “I do have to wonder if her presence is not inflaming him more than encouraging him.”

“That’s Aranea.” Noctis chuckled. “She’ll light a fire under him.”

“Let’s hope that it’s a cleansing flame rather than a renewed spark of conflict; then again, given that our forces have captured many of their soldiers, Niflheim may be short on fuel.” The elevator doors opened, and Ignis stood back as Noctis rolled himself out first. “You can discuss specifics with her when she visits tomorrow.”

“Right.” Noctis sulked, shoulders slumping. “Or I could avoid her all day.”

Ignis chuckled through his nose. “Just remember, it’s not necessarily you she’s here to see, and you two share a common interest.” They stopped outside of a door that Noctis knew very well. “I. Er. I sat with him this morning.” Ignis laced his fingers behind his back. “I played his records for him while I was reading him the morning paper.”

“Nothing?”

“I fear not.” Ignis’ brow knit. “But perhaps you’ll have better luck. His color has been better lately, and he’s been able to hold small objects, if you’ll recall-”

“Yeah.” Noctis sighed. “Let me go spend some time with him.”

Ignis opened the door. “I’ll return in about an hour to fetch you.”

“Thanks.” Noctis wheeled himself into the room, as Ignis shut the door behind him and Noctis entered Prompto’s recovery room.

Prompto had been laid up in a well-lit room, with a view of the gardens and the sunset. His bed was by the window, so he could see it in his motionless, semi-lucid state. He had barely moved on his own for the three months he’d been here, recovering. Lunafreya and her team had reset his broken bones and reordered his body - a true miracle, one for which Noctis would be ever grateful - but his mind was still lost, just as broken as it had been when Noctis had first found him in the streets outside their tenement. He had to be fed and cared for by Aera’s staff or by Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis. Noctis barely saw a shadow of his smiling friend in the body laid in the bed.

Noctis didn’t mind. If there was a shadow of him there and that was all Noctis could get, he’d take it. 

“Hey, Prompto.” He sat at his side and took his limp hand. “I’m here. Glad to see you.” He smiled, then turned to the record player beside his bed. “Wanna listen?”

Prompto was wide-eyed and silent. Noctis observed him a moment, his limp hands, his slack face. Noctis could see every scar on him, slashing between his freckles, and in his linen hospital tunic, the numbers printed on his wrist were laid bare, the tattoo livid and perpetually irritated, like his fair skin was rejecting the ink. Noctis hated knowing that he’d been this badly broken, by his own home country, by the war, and then by him. 

The needle touched the record, and a now familiar tune poured from the horn. The strange sounds meant to break the aural hypnotism that had warped his mind had been refined into something that passably sounded like music now, melodic and pleasant. Prompto’s listless expression shifted; he relaxed, looking more like he was resting than dead. Noctis smiled a little as his mouth settled into a shadow of his smile. 

“There we go,” he murmured, unnecessarily, then added, “Lunafreya - I guess you might not remember her - she said she’s been trying to compose new versions, so you can listen to different music while you’re recovering.”

Prompto’s expression didn’t change, but at least he looked happy.

“Uh, so. I’m healing well. My legs are getting stronger, I’ve been trying to work on it. I’d love to just run around Solheim again. Aera’s been rebuilding, actually selling some of her family’s art collections at auction in Accordo to help fund reconstruction efforts so people can buy new windows and fix their buildings.” He fidgeted. “She told me our old tenement’s been fixed up. She’s made the rooms bigger and controlled the monthly rent in every tenement to ensure families could afford to live there, while not being crammed in like canned sardines. So, if we moved in today, our two rooms would have been the same room. That would’ve been nice, right?” He smiled wryly and looked down at his feet in the stirrups. “I’d love to go see it. It’d be fun, right? Maybe, when both of us are feeling better, we can go back to Solheim for the day. Aera told me about a museum of old Solheim, she said she’d give me a few Gil for the admission fee, or she could take us on a personal tour. Or…” He swallowed, throat tight. “We could just walk around, skip stones on the water. We could get those lobster rolls you liked. Lady Aera would love to meet you, you know. She told me, it’d be nice to meet the boy who helped convince the Prince to save my city.” Prompto was motionless and silent. Noctis took his hand, both just to hold it and to feel that his fingers had any warmth left. “I wish I had the guts to tell her that at the end of it, I only really wanted to save you.” He bowed his head and pressed his forehead to the back of Prompto’s hand. “I just wanted to save you.”

His grip was too tight, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. He had to hold onto whatever of Prompto was there. “I know I’ve told you every day, but I’m so sorry I didn’t trust you in that one minute where it was the most important that I did. If I have to spend the rest of my life making up for that, I will, but I’m so, so sorry-”

There was a rasp off of Prompto’s lips, and Noctis looked up to see Prompto’s eyes had focused, and that his mouth was moving. He no longer had that blank look in his eyes, and he seemed to be trying to sit though months of atrophy had left him weak. “I’m…” He’d spoken, Noctis realized, he was _talking!_ “I’m… sorry… too…”

“Prompto!” Noctis threw himself from the chair onto Prompto’s chest - Prompto gave a tiny grunt at the impact - and he embraced him. His legs quivered at supporting himself, but he had to hold him, needed it like he needed to draw breath. “Prompto, you’re back, you’re alive - please say it’s you, please say you’re really there!”

“It’s… it’s me.” Prompto coughed and scooted himself up the pillows under his head. “I… guess you… missed me?” He spoke haltingly, unsteadily, his voice was weak, but he sounded sure of himself, _like himself,_ and Noctis could cry.

“Of course I did! What kind of question is that?!” He squeezed Prompto around the neck, and Prompto returned his embrace. “I’m so sorry about before - I should’ve listened -should’ve believed you - If I could take it back I would, but I promise I’ll take care of you now-”

“Noct.” Prompto lightly tugged his ear. “I… heard.” He yanked Noctis’ ear just enough to get him to lift his head and look him in the eyes. “Every word.”

Noctis’ eyes went wide, and Prompto pointed at the record player. “I was… listening…” He grinned, lopsided and a little embarrassed. “Apology accepted. All, like… six million.”

Noctis couldn’t hold back a laugh, and he embraced Prompto again, but Prompto touched his arm. “It’s… are you sure it’s… okay? I… should apologize-”

“Prompto, no-”

“I knew…” Prompto’s face worked with guilt. “Knew you were the Prince - heard you through the wall. I knew I was your enemy-” He turned his wrist over to show the numbers printed there. “I never wanted to be, but I am.”

“That’s not true. Even when you were at your worst, you never really tried to hurt me, did you?” Noctis smiled and took both of Prompto’s hands. “You never treated me like a Prince, not once. To you, I’m just Noct. We might as well be like brothers for all the real differences between us - except, like not.” His smile shifted to sheepish as Prompto rolled his eyes, but he bowed his head. “You’re just another person like me.” He squeezed Prompto’s fingertips. “And you’re the person I fell in love with. I’m so glad I met you.”

“I can’t believe it,” Prompto whispered, flushing pink to his ears. “And… can I love you, too?”

Noctis leaned in and kissed Prompto’s forehead. “Of course.” Noctis knew there would definitely be some questions, but he had a feeling he could find answers. (After all, he’d seen the knowing looks Lunafreya and Aranea had traded whenever they were in a room together, so if he couldn’t arrange for an heir any other way and if Aranea had the same problem, they could likely make an arrangement.) “You can do whatever you want. I’ll love you just as much no matter what. Your life is yours, and you can do whatever you want with it now!”

“I… don’t know what it is yet.” Prompto shut his eyes and bowed his forehead to touch it to Noctis’. “I’m just happy to be back with you.”

Noctis’ legs began to shake, and he pulled himself into the bed with Prompto and cuddled up at his side. “Stay with me, okay?”

“Yeah.” Prompto nodded against his neck. “I’m here, forever at your side.”

They knew that this was only temporary. Noctis hoped dearly that Prompto would stay conscious even when the music turned off, and that when Ignis came for him he would bring Gladio in and they would welcome him back with open arms. Then, tomorrow, they could work on helping Prompto recover his strength and build his appetite back up, teach him to walk again and nurse him back to health. 

Whatever came next, Noctis would keep Prompto safe from here on, like a Prince does his people, like one lover does another. If he learned nothing else from Solheim, he had learned that, and he would carry that forward as the two of them walked ever onward.


	17. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis and Prompto return to Solheim, and look to the future.

**Epilogue:**

The skies were golden over the water, as autumn in Solheim blew through crisp and bright. The skyscrapers loomed taller than ever, but Prompto was no longer intimidated by it. Instead, he watched the city go by from the inside of a small car, taking in all the people walking around the streets as if that horrible night of the Niflheim blitz months and months ago had never come to pass. 

Aera’s private carriage stopped near the docks, and Prompto pressed his nose to the window of it as the engine grumbled to a halt. Ignis and Gladio traded a glance in their bench seat and chuckled as Noctis took Prompto’s hand.

“Is it how you remembered it?” 

“It’s brighter,” Prompto said softly. His speech still came slowly sometimes, but he sounded so much more like himself than he had scarcely three weeks prior. 

“Yeah? Aera said they’re working on filtering the smokestacks. Maybe the sky’s a little more blue.” Noctis looked out the window, and he couldn’t see what Prompto meant. Maybe because some of the construction had moved along and there were more windows in the skyscrapers? Maybe because everything looked brighter after one had been plunged into deep darkness. “Do you wanna take a look around? Go to all the old stamping grounds?”

“S-sure.” Prompto grinned, and Ignis took this as his cue to open the carriage door, and he and Gladio climbed out first.

“We’ll follow at a distance,” Gladio offered as Noctis stepped out. “Figure you two haven’t had much time to yourselves in a while.”

“Not since I first woke up,” Prompto chuckled as he followed, landing on the ground on wobbly legs.

Ignis and Gladio, upon discovering Prompto lucid and awake, had hardly left him alone since. Gladio had begun to help Prompto regain the strength in his arms and legs, helped him walk again, building his weakened muscles, and soothing the pain in his scars. The sad way Gladio looked at his scars and the barcode on his wrist spoke of pity, but he always slapped his back with pride. Ignis would sit with Prompto when Noctis couldn’t, a steady source of support and advice. Noctis trusted them with his life, and with Prompto’s, too. They had been just as happy to see him well and cogent as Noctis had.

Now that the two of them were healed, however, Noctis wanted to make good on one of his promises. Neither of them were strong enough for a full day on their feet at a museum, but they could pull on their street clothes, Noctis his vest and tunic and his newsboy cap, Prompto fixing his suspenders and rolling his shirtsleeve down over his wrist, and wander around their former neighborhood.

Noctis held Prompto’s hand as they walked up the road into the city still under repair, still under construction. 

Cindy rushed out of the newspaper office to meet them, throwing her arms around Prompto’s neck in plain relief, and he flushed crimson even as he staggered under the force of her crushing embrace. Cid, too, wandered out to slap Noctis on the back.

“Mind if I get your autograph, Prince? Could sell it and use the funds on a new press.” Cid thumbed at the rickety old machine, and Prompto laughed aloud.

“I bet he’ll give you guys a personal interview, too! The real news, straight from the Prince’s mouth!”

There were still street vendors selling fruit and flowers. The markets were open and crowded with people of all sorts buying groceries together, taking advantage of the city of plenty. Prompto had been given some spending money, and bought everyone a lobster roll from his favorite stand, and a newspaper for himself, and they all sat on the benches near the docks, facing the water where they could watch the ships going in and out.

There, on the front page, they could see Aranea, King Regis, and a grouchy-looking old man in white robes seated at a table. Aranea was laughing, King Regis looked serene and calm, and the Emperor was gripping the seat of his chair as hard as he could. 

The image set Prompto giggling. “Oh, so peace talks are starting! I really hope things go well.”

“The Empire lacks a leg to stand on,” Ignis remarked, then discreetly licked a bit of butter off of his fingers. “Fortunately, most only need two.” He then examined the sandwich carefully. “You know, I dare say I could make this myself.”

“Be happy to taste-test,” Gladio offered, then jumped to his feet. “But until then, I’m getting another.”

“Ah, allow me to accompany. I’d like to ask if this is tarragon or parsley in the butter.” Ignis got up to follow him, and Noctis slid his hand right into Prompto’s as the two of them were left alone. 

“It’s nice to be back, right?”

“It really is.” Prompto smiled and squeezed Noctis’ hand.

Neither of them were strong enough yet to run or carry a bag of newspapers around the city, and neither of them could shout the headlines, but they were together. 

The war wasn’t over, either - not quite, not yet. Ardyn Izunia was still at large, wanted by Niflheim, Tenebrae, Lucis, and all of Lucis’ allies. Aera still argued with her council every step forward she tried to take, and Aranea still searched for three of her missing brothers in the masses of lost boys captured by Niflheim and spirited away to Tenebrae. Still, for Prompto and Noctis, at least, there was a modicum of peace in the space between them, the space they shared. 

“I’d love to see the whole city,” Prompto admitted, swinging his legs off the bench. “Like, if we can come back, and take that tour of the museum? I want to know how everyone in Solheim used to live.” He looked out across the waters, into the distance. “And how they live now. And what things might look like next.”

“Yeah.” Noctis nodded. “I feel like I know so little about other people. I used to think Niffs were…” He grimaced, then laced his fingers with Prompto’s. “I didn’t know enough about Graleans. But I’m glad I know more now. I want to know more.” He turned on the bench to face Prompto. “I was talking to my dad before he left for the peace talks. I was telling him, I want to take a tour of the world.”

Prompto’s eyes widened. “Really? You mean seeing all the people of the world in Solheim wasn’t enough for you?” He laughed and lightly punched Noctis’ shoulder, and Noctis chuckled and pushed his hand off.

“Believe me, that was one thing, but I want to see people in their own countries.” 

“Yeah? I guess I can relate.” Prompto faced the ocean again. “I want to see the world. More of it. All of it. There’s so much out there that I’ve never had a chance to see, and if I had my choice, I’d love to go!” He turned to Noctis again, beaming bright. “Maybe I could be, like, a reporter! And send stories and pictures to Cid’s paper! If there are stories to tell, I think it’d be fun to tell them!”

“Yeah?” Noctis grinned. “Well, Mr. Reporter, you mind if I tag along? I’d love to go with you.” 

“I’d love to have you!” Prompto bounced the bench in his eagerness. 

“Yeah, it’ll be fun. The world’s changing, after all. I want to see what it becomes for myself.”

“Me too!” Prompto squeezed onto Noctis’ hand, and Noctis chuckled and slid his arm up Prompto’s waist. “I’ll go anywhere you want to go. Just, promise I can stay with you, okay?”

“It’s a promise.” Noctis settled Prompto against his side, and Prompto kissed his cheek.

Wherever in the world they went, they knew that this place, side by side, was where they belonged. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading! Please let me know what you thought!


End file.
